Cassidy felt the hot tears streaming down her lovely cheeks. Looking to her father, she could only whisper the question, “Why? Why, Father? Why me and why…why that man?”
Straightening his shoulders confidently, Lord Shea answered, “That I am not in readiness to reveal to you, my daughter. There is much that I must contemplate. Much comfort that I must give your mother. But I tell you now, with the honesty of all my heart and love for you…it will serve better than you can ever imagine.”
Ellis growled angrily and stormed from the room. Cassidy dropped to her knees before her mother and, taking her hands, begged, “Who is he, Mother? This man to whom you have given me? Who is he to you?”
Cylia Shea raised her eyes to her daughter’s in regained confidence. “He…he is the best of men, darling. Son to a family beloved by your father and me. He will serve you well. Believe in your father, and trust in us, please.”
Cassidy stood and, turning to leave the room as well, paused, saying, “I…I want to believe in you. But it’s made difficult when you will not even tell me why it is I must go with him.” And she fled from the room in a torrent of tears.
It was near to an hour that Cassidy spent alone in the west gardens sobbing as the fragrant scents of daffodil and tulip surrounded her. There was not reason to it! No way to understand it! Her parents would not even tell her how it had all come about. She could guess that they had formed a fast friendship with a couple and decided mutually that their children would wed when they were grown. But why then had she never heard the name of Carlisle before this very day?
As she thought on it, she could remember the initials D.B.C. on letters from someone to her mother. Initials of L.C. on letters to her father. Could the C in the initials be for Carlisle? Still, if they were such intimate friends as to wish their children to join, why then had she never heard of them? Why?
Finally, when there was no moisture left in her tired eyes for crying, she made her way back to the house. All was quiet within, as if nothing had changed. Her mother and father were nowhere to be seen, and she had heard the mad drumming of Ellis’s mount leaving the stables when she had been in the garden. She knew her mind was too alive with facing the death of her independence to sleep easily.
Perhaps a book, she mused as she entered the library, a book to divert her thoughts. But as she entered and looked toward the warming fire that crackled and spat in the large hearth, she noticed a form sitting in the deepness of a soft chair off to one side. Immediately her heart began to pound with a mania that was deafening. He sat, his elbows resting on the arms of the great chair, his hands made into tight fists, knuckles braced against one another beneath his chin. She stood frozen as he raised his eyes to her and then straightened in the chair.
“You’ve been found then,” he mumbled. “To think they had the audacity to inquire of me about your whereabouts.”
“You’ve known nearly your entire life?” she asked bluntly.
“I have.”
“And you despised me from the first.” She stated it. There was no question in her voice.
He did not argue the point—only said, “I’ve been sitting wondering which is the worst of it. Was it worse to know and anticipate my whole life as I have? Or would it be worse to be you and have it thrust on me unexpectedly, unwelcomely, all at once?”
“My father must have an immense regard for your father,” was all she could say.
“Hmm,” he mused, sarcastically somehow. “Yes, for my father.”
She did not miss the insinuation in his voice. “Our mothers then.”
“Ah, yes. Our mothers are great friends!” he exclaimed, and she sensed the anger rising in him once more. “And therefore, that fact alone makes this all dandy, doesn’t it?”
“Are you as violent a man as you appear to be?” she asked forthrightly.
“I am,” came his uncompromising response.
“Is your hatred for me as complete as it seems?”
“No.”
She was somewhat astonished at his answer. “Why not?” She was again surprised at her own bold question. She shifted uncomfortably as he stood, strode toward her, and seemed to study her carefully from head to toe.
“You are, at least, a comely girl,” he said rather indifferently.
She was infuriated at his brazen and worldly response. How dare he imply that her physical appearance would make the situation endurable for him? But she would not let him have the upper hand, and she quickly retorted, “And you are, at least, uniquely handsome.” Then, unable to hold her tongue any further, she added, “Though…I must tell you now that it would make no difference to me were you elderly, obese, and heinous to look upon.”
“Humph,” he sneered rather mockingly. “You’ll come to know the intense untruth of that remark.” Rising from his chair and pushing past her, he strode angrily from the room.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marcia Lynn McClure’s intoxicating succession of novels, novellas, and e-books—including The Visions of Ransom Lake, A Crimson Frost, The Pirate Ruse, and most recently The Chimney Sweep Charm—has established her as one of the most favored and engaging authors of true romance. Her unprecedented forte in weaving captivating stories of western, medieval, regency, and contemporary amour void of brusque intimacy has earned her the title “The Queen of Kissing.”
Marcia, who was born in Albuquerque, New Mexico, has spent her life intrigued with people, history, love, and romance. A wife, mother, grandmother, family historian, poet, and author, Marcia Lynn McClure spins her tales of splendor for the sake of offering respite through the beauty, mirth, and delight of a worthwhile and wonderful story.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine
A Better Reason to Fall in Love
Born for Thorton’s Sake
The Chimney Sweep Charm
A Crimson Frost
Daydreams
Desert Fire
Divine Deception
Dusty Britches
The Fragrance of her Name
The Haunting of Autumn Lake
The Heavenly Surrender
The Highwayman of Tanglewood
Kiss in the Dark
Kissing Cousins
The Light of the Lovers’ Moon
Love Me
An Old-Fashioned Romance
The Pirate Ruse
The Prairie Prince
The Rogue Knight
Romantic Vignettes—The Anthology of Premiere Novellas
Saphyre Snow
Shackles of Honor
Sudden Storms
Sweet Cherry Ray
Take a Walk With Me
The Tide of the Mermaid Tears
The Time of Aspen Falls
To Echo the Past
The Touch of Sage
The Trove of the Passion Room
Untethered
The Visions of Ransom Lake
Weathered Too Young
The Whispered Kiss
The Windswept Flame
Born for Thorton's Sake Page 14