by Jane Porter
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that. You weaseled your way into my heart a long, long time ago.”
“Weaseled?”
He smiled at her indignant tone and lowered his head, slowly kissing her, a kiss so hot and hungry she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him down, even closer.
“Is charmed better?” he teased, one hand skimming over her hipbone, and then finding warm soft skin beneath the petticoat.
“Yes, but we both know I’m not charming, at least, I wasn’t charming toward you.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I liked you too much, and you didn’t like me.”
“Oh, I liked you, quite a bit.” His fingers slipped between her thighs and found her where she was warm and damp. He stroked her until she was breathless and arching up against him. “But I was out of your league, sweetheart. What could I offer you? Nothing.”
Her nails bit into his shoulders and she closed her eyes, panting as the pleasure built. He watched her lovely face as she struggled to retain control.
“I should have said no to your proposal, Ellie. I knew I didn’t deserve you, but God help me, I wanted you. And I will want you forever.” And then his mouth covered hers, drinking in her cry as she climaxed.
Ellie slowly opened her eyes, and frowned at the bright sunlight pouring through her open bedroom window. Taking a breath, she felt the weight of Thomas’s arm around her, holding her firmly to him, his knee between her thighs.
Something had happened... what had happened?
And then it all started coming back to her.
The trip up the mountain, the tearful ride back, the conversation with McKenna and then Thomas returning, and accusing her of having Sinclair in her room...
She remembered how she told him everything, and how she’d practically shouted that she loved him.
Ellie cringed, remembering that part. She wished she hadn’t said quite everything, and she really wish she hadn’t shouted all that about loving him. It was so embarrassing and awkward since emotion wasn’t his thing. Now all she wanted to do was escape but Thomas’s arm was ridiculously heavy and, despite giving it a shove, she couldn’t get it to move.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, his voice deep but not at all sleepy.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. His dark gaze met hers and he lifted a brow.
“I’m going downstairs. I’m sure you must be hungry or something.”
“And you are such an excellent cook.”
She would have punched him if she had a free hand.
“So violent,” he teased, rolling her onto her back as if she weighed nothing. He straddled her hips, his hands catching her wrists and holding them down.
“Because you make me angry!”
“What did I do now?”
“How could you accuse me of behaving improperly with Sinclair? How could you think so little of me to even suggest such a thing?”
Thomas’s smile faded. He released her hands but didn’t move off her. “That was wrong of me. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
“But why did you?”
His broad shoulders shifted. “Because I know you’d wanted to marry Douglas. He was your first choice—”
“Only because I hadn’t met you yet.” Her eyes burned and she struggled to keep herself from falling apart again. “You are my first choice.”
He made a rough sound. “You don’t need to say that. I’m not that fragile.”
“But it’s true. You are the only man I’ve ever proposed to.”
“Because you’d run out of time.”
“Because I’d finally found the right one.”
“I brought nothing into this marriage, Ellie girl.”
She swallowed against the lump filling her throat. Ellie girl. It was the same thing her father used to call her. “You brought exactly what I needed,” she whispered, blinking to clear her vision. “You brought you.”
He said nothing, his dark gaze shuttered, his expression impossible to read.
“Thomas,” she whispered, trying to smile, wanting so very much to reach him, and reassure him. “You are what I need. And even if you don’t love me—”
“Stop.”
“It’s okay, because I’d rather have you and have something of you, than nothing—”
He stretched over her, his mouth covering hers, stealing her words and her air and her pain.
He kissed her until her heart slowed and her veins felt full of sunshine and honey.
“I love you,” he said roughly, lifting his head to look her in the eyes. “It’s that simple, and that complicated.”
“Why complicated?”
“Because I wouldn’t survive losing you. I’m not going to do this life without you.”
She smiled through her tears. “You don’t have to. I’m here. We’re here. Together.”
“Life is harsh.”
“But also beautiful.”
“I don’t trust God.”
“Oh, I do. He brought me you.” Her tears were falling again and she struggled against the overwhelming emotion. She reached up to stroke his hard, handsome face. “And how I love you. You have no idea.”
He turned his lips into her hand, kissing her palm. “You say everything I’d like to say. I wish I had more words, I struggle to find the right words.”
“Can I help you with the words as its obvious I have plenty of them?”
He smiled crookedly. “Please do.”
“I’ll ask the question, and you answer. How is that?”
“Fine.”
“I’m not actually going to ask a lot. I just need to know one thing. Do you love me?”
His dark eyes met hers and held. “With all my heart.”
Her own heart thumped hard in response. She exhaled. “That’s all I need to know.”
“Are you sure?” He rolled over, bringing her with him so that she was now on top of him. “No more questions? No worries or concerns? Is everything truly, finally clear?”
“Well, maybe just another question.”
“Okay.”
“When did you know you first loved me?”
“Last December when I saw you rushing after Douglas, begging him not to leave you.”
Her jaw dropped, eyes widening.
He nodded. “You were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and I thought, if you were mine, I’d never let you go. And so when you proposed, I couldn’t refuse you, even though I knew I didn’t deserve you. I had the chance to make you mine, and I did.”
Warmth rushed through her, warmth and hope and happiness so bright that she couldn’t quite take it all in. “Thank goodness Sinclair didn’t want me.”
“I know why he didn’t.”
She arched a brow.
He cupped the back of her head and pulled her down to him, murmuring, “Because you were made for me.”
She looked into his eyes and nodded, and then nodded again. “I love you, Thomas Sheenan.”
“I love you, Ellie Burnett.”
“Sheenan,” she corrected huskily. “Ellie Burnett Sheenan. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Epilogue
Ellie and Thomas Sheenan were a truly happy couple. They loved deeply, and fought infrequently, with fights usually resolved by Thomas carrying Ellie off to the new master bedroom he’d built for her downstairs, the room filled with windows, and a huge four-poster bed and a handsome river rock fireplace to keep his Ellie girl warm on even the coldest of Montana mornings.
He loved her in bed, and out of bed, and it wasn’t long before they had their first child, and then four more.
Four of their five babies grew into adulthood, and those four—William, James, Elizabeth, and Archie—married and had children, giving Ellie and Thomas seventeen grandchildren, including an Archibald, Jr and a little Biddy.
Ellie never did love cooking, but she mastered two dishes for her husband, Irish soda bread and his favorite steak & stout pie.
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She never could resist him and he adored the ground she walked on.
They celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary on April 5, 1940 with all their children and grandchildren joining them for dinner and cake and champagne at the original Burnett-Sheenan homestead.
Thomas had always said he couldn’t live without her, and thankfully he never had to.
The End
The Paradise Valley Ranch Series
Book 1: Away in Montana
McKenna Douglas’ story
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Book 2: Married in Montana
Ellie Sheenan’s story
View the series here
Book 3: Home in Montana
Coming soon
New York Times bestselling author Jane Porter’s contemporary romance series....
The Taming of the Sheenans
The Sheenans are six powerful wealthy brothers from Marietta, Montana. They are big, tough, rugged men, and as different as the Montana landscape.
Christmas at Copper Mountain
Book 1: Brock Sheenan’s story
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Tycoon’s Kiss
Book 2: Troy Sheenan’s story
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The Kidnapped Christmas Bride
Book 3: Trey Sheenan’s story
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Taming of the Bachelor
Book 4: Dillion Sheenan’s story
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A Christmas Miracle for Daisy
Book 5: Cormac Sheenan’s story
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The Lost Sheenan’s Bride
Book 6: Shane Sheenan’s story
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Enjoy an Exclusive Excerpt from Sinclair Douglas’ story
Away in Montana
Jane Porter
Book 1 in the Paradise Valley Ranch series
Copyright © 2016
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October 26, 1889
McKenna Frasier shivered as a gust of blustery autumn wind sent red and gold leaves tumbling down Bramble Lane. Her fingers felt cold and stiff from gripping the invitation to Mr. and Mrs. Henry Bramble’s Hallowe’en Revels so tightly.
McKenna couldn’t remember when she’d last been so anxious about a social event, and that was significant as she’d attended New York costume balls and formal dinners hosted by everyone from the Astors to the Vanderbilts.
She’d once been so fearless.
No, make that naive. She hadn’t ever truly understood the rules of New York society, or the consequences, until it was too late.
Dr. Jillian Parker, seated next to McKenna, gave her a light pat of reassurance on her arm. “Don’t be nervous. Just be yourself and everything will be fine.”
McKenna nodded, and pressed her lips together, wanting to believe Jillian, but as the handsome, red brick mansion at the end of the street came into view, her stomach rose and fell, her thudding pulse now matching the brisk clip-clopping of the horses’ hooves.
She couldn’t get sick here. It wouldn’t do.
Jillian leaned closer to McKenna, her voice dropping so her husband, who was driving the carriage, wouldn’t hear. “Mrs. Bramble wouldn’t have sent an invitation for the party if she didn’t want to include you.”
“That’s because I forced the issue,” McKenna answered lowly.
“You didn’t know you were forcing the issue. It was an honest mistake.”
McKenna struggled to smile. She knew better.
When the invitation didn’t arrive for the Brambles’ Hallowe’en party, she shouldn’t have asked Jillian to make enquiries. A true lady would have accepted the oversight with grace and quiet dignity, but McKenna being McKenna, didn’t quietly accept situations. She had a long history of making mistakes, starting with her childhood. As a girl, she’d been criticized countless times for her strong personality and passionate temperament. Her mother had done her best to teach McKenna that a lady was to always be cool, collected, and self-possessed, and to be fair, she was that... at times. But then there were situations, where she wouldn’t, couldn’t, accept fate, fighting it, wanting a different outcome.
Like with the Brambles’ party.
Heartsick over not being included, she’d approached Jillian Parker—her only friend so far in Crawford County—to discretely enquire about the invitation, wondering if it had gone missing. McKenna was mortified to learn later that the invitation hadn’t gotten lost. She hadn’t been invited.
She would have cried, if she was a crier.
Instead, she lay awake at night, listening to the wind, the hoot of owls, and the distant howl of wolves, telling herself she was silly to care so much. It was just a party. She’d attended hundreds of parties in the last few years.
During the day, she focused her energy on her pupils, the lessons, and learning how to become a better teacher. It was one thing to study literature and the arts in college, but another to actually teach those subjects, along with math, science, and history.
Just when she’d finally resigned herself to not going, and felt peace about the situation, one of Mr. Bramble’s bank employees arrived at the school yesterday afternoon with the coveted invite, and a handwritten note from Mrs. Bramble, asking McKenna to please join them tomorrow, writing that the annual Hallowe’en party wouldn’t be complete without her.
McKenna didn’t know how to react to the sudden appearance of the invitation. The emotional ups and downs of the past few weeks had rattled her, reminding her of the roller coaster at Coney Island, with all the wild dips and thrills. She’d loved and hated that ride. It had been both exciting and terrifying, and now, looking at the Bramble’s imposing, brick mansion in front of her, she felt the same excitement and terror.
They were here.
Jillian flashed McKenna a smile. “Courage,” she said.
McKenna managed a matching smile. “Always,” she answered breathlessly.
But as they disembarked from the carriage, McKenna’s legs felt anything but steady. “What if people know I wasn’t supposed to be here?” she whispered to Jillian.
Jillian slid her arm through McKenna’s. “There are only three of us that know. You, me, and Mrs. Bramble—”
“And Mr. Bramble.”
“Men never know anything about parties. I’m sure Mr. Bramble is clueless.” She squeezed McKenna’s arm. “So go in, hold your head up, and smile. Give people a chance to get to know you. The real you. Not the one people think they know from the newspapers.”
“You’re so confident.”
“It wasn’t easy for me when I first moved here. Marietta needed a veterinarian, but they didn’t want me. Their new veterinarian was not supposed to be a woman. But I’ve been here five years now and they’ve come to accept me. With time, they’ll also accept you.”
Twenty-nine year old Sinclair Douglas saw McKenna Frasier the moment she entered the parlor in her persimmon and spice gown, her dark hair pinned up, tendrils already slipping free. Knowing McKenna, those were not artful pieces teased from the chignon, but curls that had already worked themselves loose.
She’d always found it difficult, if not impossible, to contain her intense beauty and energy. Her vivid brightness was both a strength and weakness, and now that she had been exiled from New York, he suspected it’d become an overwhelming liability in Crawford and Park Counties. He’d heard New York society was strict, and punitive, but small towns could be even harsher, and today would be a test. He wasn’t sure if she knew there had been a vocal minority who’d protested her hiring, claiming her immorality and scandalous reputation should have made her ineligible for the teaching position in Paradise Valley.
Fortunately, it was just a minority of the community.
Unfortunately, that same minority was present at the Brambles today.
Sinclair had been angered by the barrage of criticism and cruel comments, but there was little he could do without making the situation worse. She wasn’t his anymore. And, in hindsight, she probably never had been.
He watched her accept a cup of punch from their hostess. Her hand was not entirely steady as she held the cup. He’d never known her to be afraid of anything before, but then, she’d never been so vulnerable before.
He hated this. Hated that her family had cut her off. Hated that society had cast her out. Hated that she had no one now. But she’d created this situation. She’d made her choice.
His chest squeezed tight and he turned away, retreating into the library where she was no longer in his line of sight.
He wasn’t surprised that she still affected him. He’d loved her for so long, it was difficult to not care, but she wasn’t his responsibility. She wasn’t his, period.
She’d never be his. Not now. And not because he couldn’t forgive her—he could do that, and eventually he would—but he didn’t trust her. How could a man marry a woman he didn’t trust? How could he create a family with a woman who lacked integrity... honor?
He stepped past a cluster of ladies who all paused to smile at him. He nodded, smiling grimly, recognizing all three. One was a married woman, the wife of the reverend, and the other two were young single women who’d taken the train to Montana to find husbands. He knew because the reverend’s wife had made several attempts to introduce him to the young ladies.
He didn’t like to be rude, but he wasn’t interested.
He wasn’t sure when he’d be interested in settling down.
He’d been ready a year ago, though. He’d been looking forward to a life with McKenna. They had a future planned out, and he’d purchased land, built a home, saved money for the day he’d need to provide for her.
He’d thought she was looking forward to the same future.
He was wrong.
Sinclair stepped back against the bookshelf to allow a young woman and her mother to pass. The young woman smiled up at him from beneath her lashes. He gave her a brief nod, wishing he was anywhere but here, in an overheated house with too many overdressed people. He rarely attended social events, preferring the solitude of his ranch and his own company, over artificial gaiety and meaningless conversation.