Love and Triumph: The Coltrane Saga, Book 8

by Patricia Hagan

  Born in Atlanta, Georgia, Patricia grew up all across the United States due to her father’s position as a federal attorney, finally settling in Alabama where she graduated from the University of Alabama with a major in English. She now resides with her husband in south Florida where she volunteers as a Court-appointed Guardian Ad Litem for abused children.

  But of all her accolades and accomplishments, Patricia most of all loves to boast of being the proud mom of a Navy SEAL.

  Look for these titles by Patricia Hagan

  Now Available:

  The Coltrane Saga

  Love and War

  The Raging Hearts

  Love and Glory

  Love and Fury

  Love and Splendor

  Love and Dreams

  Love and Honor

  Coming Soon:

  Souls Aflame

  Passion’s Fury

  From the glory of Spanish haciendas to the thrilling excitement of New York and the shadowy streets of Morocco, true love knows no bounds.

  Love and Honor

  © 2012 Patricia Hagan

  Beautiful Kit Coltrane has a fiery spirit to match her flame-red hair. No matter that her father is the U.S. Ambassador to Spain, Kit has no interest in all the fancy balls and dinner parties that go with his position.

  It is at an embassy ball that wealthy rancher Kurt Tanner is smitten by the feisty beauty. A handsome, debonair man of the world, Kurt is used to being able to have way with any woman he chooses, and Kit’s aloofness only makes him all the more determined to possess her.

  When the stubborn Kit is kidnapped and taken to Tangiers to be sold into white slavery, it is up to Kurt to try and save her and prove to her once and for all that she is the perfect woman—and spitfire—for him.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Love and Honor:

  Spain

  November 1912

  Jade’s impatience was giving way to anger with each glance at her wristwatch. Where was Kit? It was time to leave for the depot, and missing the noon train to Madrid meant waiting another day to leave, which also meant missing out on some of the fun. American dignitaries and citizens living and working in Spain were celebrating Thanksgiving, as well as the election of their twenty-eighth president, Woodrow Wilson, back in Washington. Jade had been looking forward to the festivities for months and wanted to be part of the gala celebration.

  She paced up and down the pink marble floor of her bedroom, pausing now and then to stare out the wide windows to the balcony and the fields beyond. Surely Kit hadn’t left the ranch, but where could she be?

  With a sigh, she turned to the mirror, studying her traveling costume—dark silk blouse, blue serge jacket with a short flare above the hip, peg-top skirt, kid pumps. Her dark hair was parted in the middle and plaited in braids that crossed in back.

  She knew she looked conservative and dignified, the way people expected the wife of an emissary to look.

  For maybe the hundredth time, Jade wished she had never given in to Colt’s and Kit’s pleadings that she buy the ranch near Valencia, although she had to admit that it was one of the most beautiful regions of the Spanish countryside. With its abundance of orange, lemon, almond, and olive trees, pomegranates and palms, she found the area truly breathtaking.

  Their home dated back to the era of El Cid, the most famous of all Spanish heroes. The palatial structure was designed with an inner garden laid out in terraces paved with mosaics and bordered with cypress and myrtle trees, fragrant with the scent of jasmine and roses. The house was built to afford a sweeping view of the aquamarine Mediterranean in front, and the land gently sloping to the rear was perfect for raising horses and cattle. Colt, however, had no time for that although he did arrange his schedule in Madrid to allow him time at home to enjoy the peace and tranquility.

  It was truly a paradise, but Jade still harbored reservations about raising Kit here, amid a ruggedness that she’d never know in the cosmopolitan atmosphere of Madrid embassy life. Here Kit sometimes rode with the vaqueros working on the Frazier ranch down the road, even though it was forbidden. And Jade also did not like the way Kit trailed after Doc Frazier, their veterinarian, as he made his rounds. She had nothing against him personally. He was a nice enough man, an American who had decided to make his home in Spain after inheriting land from a distant Spanish relative. Jade just felt that such a free outdoor existence was not proper for a young girl of royal blood—Romanov blood. She had pleaded with Colt to send Kit to a finishing school, but he wouldn’t agree because Kit didn’t want it. She had a way of wrapping her daddy around her little finger that infuriated Jade. It was also, she mused resentfully, because of Colt’s mother. Jade adored and respected Kitty Coltrane, but they sometimes clashed because Kitty was very vocal in her opinion that Kit should be allowed to live her own life the way she chose. More than once Jade had let her mother-in-law know that Kitty was not going to tell her how to raise her daughter. It did no good. Kitty still spoke her mind when she felt like it and always took her namesake’s side.

  Colt laughed when Jade worried, saying that his father had told him that his mother had been the same way when she was younger. Kit was the spitting image of Kitty Wright Coltrane, and that wasn’t so bad, was it? Jade would reluctantly agree, thinking all the while that things had no doubt been different when his mother was young and growing up on a small farm in North Carolina. She much preferred her daughter to be more genteel.

  Jade had not wanted to leave New York nearly fourteen years ago to move to Spain. She had loved her life there, teaching ballet and dance in her very own, successful studio, enjoying her family, her church and charity work. It was flattering and exciting to be considered one of the city’s most respected society matrons. An invitation to a party at the palatial Coltrane mansion on Riverside Drive was almost as coveted as a weekend at their elegant home in the Catskills. In turn, she and Colt had been on the preferred guest list of every social function from New York to the White House.

  All things considered however, Colt’s being asked to accept the position of emissary to Spain was an honor too grand to even consider not accepting…even though the offer had come at a very sad time in all their lives.

  After months of smoldering tension, war had been declared between the United States and Spain. When President McKinley had persuaded Colt’s father, Travis, to come out of retirement in October of 1898 to serve as a special adviser during peace negotiations in Paris, the entire family had worried that the stress might be too much for him. Travis Coltrane had turned a deaf ear to their protests. He was a man of honor and dedication, and if he felt that his country needed him, he would be there to serve, as best he could. He did, however, request that his only son accompany him, and together the two had proven invaluable diplomats.

  Sadly, however, the family’s fears proved true. On the tenth day of December, 1898, the day the Treaty of Paris was signed, formally ending the war, Travis Coltrane succumbed to a fatal heart attack.

  It had been a difficult time for Colt, and Jade had felt that the assignment in Spain would help him get on with his life. She’d pushed aside her personal regrets over leaving because she loved him so.

  All had gone well. Colt was one of the most respected government emissaries in Spain. Their life had been pleasant enough, but as Kit grew older, Jade felt that if she couldn’t persuade her to go to finishing school, then they should consider moving back to New York for the social and educational advantages there. Kit disagreed vehemently, arguing that if Kit’s twin, Travis, could live in France with Grandma Kitty, then she should be able to enjoy Europe, too. Jade knew that was only an excuse. Kit just preferred riding and the outdoors to what she considered “boring girl things”.

  And as for John Travis living with his grandmother, well, Jade had reluctantly given in, with the understanding that he would live at home during the summer. He did, and they were all very close. Kitty was raising her other granddaughter, Marilee, alone. Marilee was actually Kitty’s st
ep-granddaughter. A long time ago, in a dark part of Kitty and Travis’s lives, Travis had thought that Kitty was dead. He’d married a Kentucky lady named Marilee Barbeau who had died giving birth to their first and only child, Dani, Marilee’s mother.

  Jade swallowed the painful lump that still rose in her throat whenever she thought of Dani…dear, sweet, gentle Dani, who had married Jade’s close Russian friend Drakar Mikhailonov. Theirs had been a rare and special kind of love, shadowed only by Dani’s inability to carry a baby to term. Then, on the day her father had died, Dani had given birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl…and joined her father in death.

  Jade had promised Dani that she would raise her child as her own, but Kitty had insisted, and who could deny her in her grief over losing Travis? Despite their clashes over Kit, Jade admitted to having deep affection and respect for her mother-in-law.

  As for Drakar, his wounded heart would never heal, for a part of him had died with his wife. He had returned to Russia to aid his lifelong friend, the Czar Nicholas, in troubled times. Though she seldom heard from him, Jade thought of him often, and fondly.

  A knock on the door chased away her painful memories. She saw with disappointment, however, that it was the servant girl, Carasia, and not Kit. “Well, did you find her? Have any of the servants seen her?”

  Carasia stared at the floor, picking nervously at her long peasant skirt, then admitted, “Si, I have found her, señora, but she said to tell you she cannot come now. She said she is sorry you will miss the train, but it cannot be helped, and she begs your forgiveness.”

  Jade’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “You mean she refuses to come?”

  Carasia nodded and whispered, “Si.”

  “Well, exactly where is she?” Jade exploded.

  Neither shipwreck, amnesia, kidnapping nor deception can keep these star-crossed lovers apart!

  Love and Dreams

  © 2012 Patricia Hagan

  The Coltrane Saga, Book 6

  When Colt Coltrane meets Russian prima ballerina Jade O'Bannon it is a case of love at first sight. But tragedy strikes when, on a voyage to America, a raging storm wrecks their ship, and Jade sees Colt swept overboard. Rescued from certain death by wealthy businessman Bryan Stevens, Jade slowly allows herself to think she might begin to love him. The only thing holding her back is the belief that Colt might actually be alive.

  Then at a glittering ball, Jade is jolted by the sight of Colt. When it appears he does not recognize her, she thinks he is pretending due to each of them being married to someone else. But then she discovers he suffers from amnesia due to the blow to his head when he fell overboard.

  Jade knows she cannot just announce the truth to Colt, that it will take time to ease into the reality of their situation. But, as when they first met, the two are inexplicably drawn together and fall helplessly into each other's arms…and in love. Too bad Bryan is willing to do anything to keep what he believes is his—Jade.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Love and Dreams:

  The first peach and melon fingers of dawn began to slowly creep above the shadowy domes, spires, and crosses that made up the skyline of St. Petersburg, Russia, to stealthily push aside the clawing vestiges of night, parting the skies for a new day…in that late summer of 1893.

  Jade O’Bannon stirred dreamily as she slept, there in the early morning mist of her mind. Visions of her world, past and present, passed in review, crowding out the anticipatory future.

  Jade’s current affluent status was far removed from the rusticity of her beginnings. Her home in the magnificent palace of the brother and sister-in-law of Czar Alexander III, the Grand Duke Vladimir and Grand Duchess Marie Pavlovna was so regally situated on the banks of the Neva River in St. Petersburg that it was more than just miles in distance from the small fishing village in Ireland where she’d spent the first years of her life as the daughter of a simple fisherman.

  Fate had decreed another destiny for the green-eyed colleen, due to her not being a pure-blooded colleen at all. Russian blood flowed in her veins—royal Russian blood. Jade’s mother, Natasia, had been a first cousin to Czar Alexander II. However, her marriage to not only a commoner but a foreigner as well brought disfavor from the Imperial family. But Natasia obeyed the callings of her heart, turned her back on her heritage, and went to live in the homeland of her beloved, Patrick O’Bannon. Several years later, when he was lost at sea, she was left destitute but managed to scrounge means to return to Russia for the funeral of her royal cousin, only to die there soon after.

  Jade, with her rare and special beauty, caught the eye and captured the heart of Marie Pavlovna, sister-in-law of the new Czar, Alexander III, and was unofficially adopted into the wealthy Romanov family, thus belatedly bestowing upon her a silver spoon of good fortune when she was eight years old.

  Exposed to the very best of the world of art and culture, Jade was given the ultimate advantages to pursue her love of ballet. Studying under the expert tutelage of the renowned chief ballet master, Manus Petipa, she became a member of the Imperial Ballet by the time she was only thirteen.

  Sought after by the rich, noble, and royal, Jade evaded romance in favor of her dancing. She was fanatically committed to her art…until John Travis Coltrane, known as “Colt,” came into her life…and her heart.

  She had met him when she agreed to help a dear and beloved friend, Drakar Mikhailonov, as he sought to claim Colt’s sister, Daniella Coltrane.

  Jade had always been a mischievous, fun-loving sort, given to pranks and practical jokes. To take part in Drakar’s scheme, by pretending to be a hard-working servant girl of poor background, seemed only a lark, at first.

  The plan called for Colt, the handsome son of an American millionaire, long plagued by fortune-seeking women, to become smitten with Jade only to be rejected, thus eventually restoring faith in himself and dissipating doubts that a woman could care for him for any reason save his wealth. After all, he was to finally reason, if a poor servant girl could turn him down, then surely there was something to be said for the honesty of some, if not all, women, wasn’t there? This was to become blatantly obvious when, ultimately, he was to learn who Jade actually was: a wealthy member of the famous Romanov family, who would certainly never have to resort to being attracted to a man for money alone.

  However, Drakar Mikhailonov’s plan went awry when Jade fell genuinely in love with Colt and, likewise, his heart was helplessly, hopelessly, mesmerized by the Irish-Russian ballerina named for the color of her devastatingly beautiful eyes.

  For a time, Jade felt torn between her devotion to her dancing and her growing affinity for Colt. After all, a prima ballerina does not give every shred of her being over to her craft only to toss it aside the first time love beckons. But as time passed, Jade became achingly aware of the temptation to allow nothing, not even ballet, to take precedence over the great and abiding love thatgrew for Colt each day.

  Yet, despite the stirrings within, the passion they shared, Jade spent much time wondering why Colt did not ask her to marry him. He professed to love her; he neglected his family in Paris and took up residence in Russia, studying the people and the language, and spending almost every moment with her.

  But he did not speak of marriage…or of a future together.

  A few months after they met, they attended the most lavish wedding Paris society had ever seen when Colt’s sister, Dani, married Drakar. During the ceremony their eyes had met and held with secret, heated messages of love, but still their own future matrimony was never discussed.

  Then came the night when she was asked to dance as Imperial Prima Ballerina in Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker, choreographed by Lev Ivanov. It was truly the moment every dancer dreams of, and Jade was ecstatic. Costumed in frothy net, chiffon, and satin, she sparkled before the audience like the diamonds entwined in her coppery chignon. The Czar and his family sat in the royal box, but Jade did not see them or anyone in the aristocratic audience of the opulent blue and gold M
ariinsky Theater. Her heart, mind, body, and soul were enraptured and dedicated to the hour for which she had surely been born.

  When the performance was over, the patrons stood on their feet and applauded until the very floors and walls shook with the echoing thunder. Again and again the thick brocade drapes swished open and closed as Jade accepted the accolades, tears streaming down her cheeks. Bouquets of flowers were brought to her by ushers. Czar Alexander himself stood up to throw an armload of red roses at her feet. She blew him a kiss, then turned glistening, happy eyes to her adoptive mother, the Grand Duchess Marie.

  The other dancers in the Imperial Ballet company gathered about her, themselves applauding and heralding their new star. The master himself, Petipa, came up on the stage to kiss her hand and bow before her.

  Then, as the cheers and applause diminished, and the other dancers moved away from Jade, one man began to walk purposefully down the aisle toward the stage. Jade blinked against the bright lights, felt the sudden rush of love within as she realized it was Colt. She’d thought him to be in Paris, called there suddenly by his mother due to his father’s being ill, but now he was here to share her glory, her triumph, the culmination of every ballerina’s dream.

  He stood beneath her in front of the stage, holding up a single yellow rose tied with a slender satin ribbon of green. She smiled through her tears of joy and gracefully leaned down to accept it—then froze, blinking in bewilderment.

  A huge, glittering diamond ring was tied to the stem.

  Colt gazed up at her adoringly as he continued to hold out the single yellow rose. “What better time,” he whispered so that only she could hear, “for you to decide which you want to be—a prima ballerina…or my wife.” Later, he would confide that his behavior was not premeditated, that he’d planned to make his proposal afterward, in the quiet and romantic atmosphere of wine and moonlight. But as the glory of her performance exploded, he had been struck with the notion that this was the time for her to truly understand the emotions surrounding her decision.