“I hope you don’t think I’m going to give in on everything little thing.”
His gaze met hers. “You will on the ones that count.”
His self-assured grin irked her. Instead of hitting him like she wanted to do, she stuck her nose in the air and ignored him, keeping a stiff back to him all the way to the corral, the temporary home for the livestock until they could build the new barn.
“You all right from here, Miss Pearl?”
She nodded, and the two men stopped to speak to Davidson. She ignored them all and began to curry the horse, then gave him a fresh bunch of hay from the Flaherty Ranch. She walked up to the house, noticing that Davidson lingered to talk to the marshal’s men. Let him, she huffed. I don’t need his help.
I don’t need him, don’t’ want him—the hell I don’t!
She heard their horses leaving as she walked over to the pump. Her hands shook as she washed them. Ignoring their trembling, she shook them and wiped them dry on her skirts.
Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Lord why did you spare me today?”
“Because I need you in my life.” Davidson wrapped his arms around her from behind and just held on.
She sniffled, not wanting to cry, but unable to hold back the tears. “I don’t know what I was thinking, trying to stand up back there.”
“You weren’t thinking, Pearl,” he told her. “It happens.”
She rubbed her sleeve under her nose. “Not to me.”
He kissed the top of her head. “We can pretend it didn’t happen if it will make you feel better.”
She snorted. “The marshal will never let me forget it.”
He agreed with her. “True. Are you hungry?”
She wasn’t sure, didn’t know what she wanted. Her entire body felt strange, as if she didn’t fit in her own skin. “I don’t feel right.”
“Come on,” he urged. “Let’s sit down.” He led her into the house and then to the parlor. Sitting down, he pulled her onto his lap.
“You’re just reacting to the gunfight.”
She leaned against him, drawing her strength from his. “Maybe.”
“Isn’t that what happened after O’—”
Before he could ask, she interrupted. “I wasn’t in much shape to remember how I felt other than hurting like the blue blazes.”
Davidson stiffened. “If O’Toole wasn’t already dead—”
She buried her face in his neck. “I do love you.”
He wrapped his arms tight around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “I love you, too.”
After a few moments of precious quiet, he spoke. “The marshal mentioned Stanton wasn’t the only one who’d showed up in town today.”
She stiffened in his arms. When she didn’t ask him who else had arrived, he told her, “Apparently Samuel Jones rode into town earlier.”
“Is he coming out here too?”
Davidson shook his head no. “He’s visiting with Lincoln and Stanton—”
“They know one another?”
Davidson snorted. “Not before today.” He hesitated, “But after spending the night together in jail, I do believe they’ll have found they have a lot in common.”
“He arrested Sarah’s brother?”
“And sent a wire to Millie Peabody’s brother in Denver.”
“Why would he do that?” She stopped and stared up at him.
“Because he works for the Denver Chronicle.”
And suddenly all the pieces fell into place. “Sarah and Millie placed the advertisement in that paper!”
Davidson pulled her into his arms and held her close.
“The committee must have voted.”
“Ten for and two against.”
“How do you know?” she demanded.
“Sarah wouldn’t talk, but Millie confessed to holding the meeting and voting to sell your ranch.”
Pearl’s heart hurt. She’d expected something like this to happen, especially after what the committee had tried to do to both Maggie and then Bridget, but had prayed it wouldn’t be true.
“What will the marshal do?” She wondered what Davidson would do after learning he’d been swindled.
“He’s getting every penny of my money back, for starters.”
“What about Sarah and Millie?”
“We’ll have to see about them.”
“Lincoln and Stanton?”
“The authorities in Boston have stepped in.”
“So you’re free to go?” she asked.
“Yes,” he whispered, pressing his lips to hers.
“When will you leave?” Her head pounded in unison with her aching heart.
“Never. I’m here to stay,” he murmured, meeting her worried gaze before taking her lips again.
When he released her, she drew in a deep breath and sighed. He wasn’t going to change his mind, so she could stop worrying about it. Relieved, she asked, “Isn’t there something else you wanted to teach me about pleasure?” Now that she knew he was staying, and that he’d only left last night to protect her, she hoped there was more that he would teach her. More that they could share.
He was silent for so long, she thought he wouldn’t answer her.
“Ah, yes, I remember now. There is something else.”
She lifted her head and looked into his warm brown eyes. “What?” Her entire body started to tingle at the thought of being on the receiving end of whatever pleasure he would teach her.
“Help me move this sofa.”
She put her hands on her hips and demanded, “Are you planning on having your way with me on my parlor floor?”
His smile was delightfully wicked. “Yes, ma’am.”
Words escaped her. What could she say to that?
After they moved the sofa, they moved the occasional table so that there was a big space in the middle of the room. Instead of taking her by the hand and dragging her to the floor, he bowed in front of her and asked, “May I have this dance?”
“I—I don’t know how to dance,” she stuttered. Dance? He wanted to dance? Lord above, she’d never expected that.
His eyes gleamed. “It would be my greatest pleasure to teach you.”
He put one hand at her waist and reached out to clasp her other hand at shoulder height. “Follow me,” he instructed. “The pattern is easy. One-two-three,” he told her. “One-two-three.”
It was awkward at first, but he hummed a tune so she could follow along. Drawing her closer until she could feel the heat from his body and they were mere inches apart, his hand at her waist burned through the layers of clothing she wore. His other hand clasped hers firmly, his skin warm and rough with calluses.
He may have come from a privileged life back home, but he knew how to work. And he was the only man to give her one of the greatest gifts she’d ever received, a heart-full of unconditional love. He’d taught her how to receive and give more pleasure than she’d ever thought possible.
She stared at the hollow at the base of his throat and fought back tears. No one had ever taken the time to dance with her. Ever. Her life had been one of work from as far back as she could remember. Even as a little girl, before her mother died.
As they moved together in three-quarter time, she forgot about everything but the man who held her close. The movement of her feet mirrored his. He twirled her around the room, his heart beating in time with hers, his cheek brushing the top of her head. Inhaling the spicy, clean scent that was his own, Pearl realized she’d been truly blessed when the Lord sent a stranger from Boston to her front porch door.
“I hear there’s a parson making the rounds over in Milford.”
Her steps faltered. “Parson?”
“We could be married next week.”
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
He grinned. The worry in her storm-gray eyes didn’t bother him; he knew she loved him and would marry him.
“Well,” he drawled, “you don’t have to wear anything on my account.”<
br />
She smacked him on the arm. “Be serious, Davidson.”
His lips brushed against hers. “I am. Very.” His mouth took possession of hers, plundering her sweet lips, telling her without words how much he desired her, how much he wanted her, and how much he loved her.
She pulled back and stared up at him. “Next week?”
“It doesn’t take that long to find something to wear, and I know Bridget and Maggie would be more than willing to help prepare a wedding breakfast.”
“Breakfast? You want to get married in the morning?”
“Mmmm.” He bent to take her lips again. “That way, I can dance all day long and make love to my new wife all night.”
Her eyes rounded with shock. “Oh, my.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Indeed.”
The smile that lit her face without a doubt started deep inside her heart.
“God help me, Pearl, I love you with every fiber of my being.”
“Lord love you, Davidson, it sounds pretty, but what does it mean?”
“I love you body and soul.”
“Oh—”
“My,” Smythe finished for her, taking her lips once more.
She pushed back and placed a hand to his chest. “You don’t want to wire anyone back home and wait for them to come out west?”
He shook his head. “No, just Runyon. We’ll send my mother a wire.” He let his finger slide along the curve of her jaw. “I suppose you’ll want to invite the entire Committee for the Betterment of Emerson.”
Pearl threw back her head and laughed. “Absolutely.”
Smythe crushed her to him. “Do you think they’ll come?”
“No.” She lifted her face for his kiss. “Do you care?”
“Not a chance, love.”
As his lips claimed hers, Pearl knew she’d found the love she’d always dreamed waited for her, but didn’t think she deserved to have.
Smythe pressed his lips to hers, knowing he’d been given a second chance at life and love, thanks to the woman in his arms, a woman brave enough to shoot him—to love him.
“How about our lesson?” He began to unbutton the front of her dress.
She tilted her head back and smiled. “Are you going to teach me another way to dance?”
His laughter warmed her heart. “Most definitely, my dear. It’s the latest rage in parlors everywhere, and the dress code is shockingly sparse.”
“Sparse?”
“Mmmm,” he breathed. “Not a stitch.”
“We’re going to dance naked?” Her shiver of excitement sparked his own.
“Absolutely.”
“Won’t that be shocking to the other wedding guests?”
He drew the dress off her shoulders and let it slide down to pool at her feet. Touching a hand beneath her chin, he pressed a kiss to her lips. “They will have all gone home by then.”
“And we’ll be all alone?”
“Just us.” He slid her chemise off her shoulders so it fell to the floor in a puddle of white. “Do you trust me, Pearl?”
“With all my heart.” She unbuttoned his shirt and began working on his trousers; they got tangled up with his boots.
The two of them tumbled to the floor, laughing, and he had her right where he’d wanted her all along, in his arms. “You may not have earned the forgiveness and redemption of the committee, but you’ve earned my everlasting love and devotion.”
She could feel his heart pounding against her breast, but couldn’t feel her own. For a moment she panicked, and then she realized hers still beat, but in perfect time with his.
“Say the words, Pearl. Tell me how you feel?”
Needing to show him how she felt, she lifted her hips and he slid home deep inside of her until their bodies and hearts were one.
Awed by his loving tenderness, she wrapped her arms around him, and sighed, “I gave you a little piece of my heart each time you kept your word and taught me to trust you—to believe you.”
Pressing her lips to his, she gave him the words she knew he longed to hear. “I love you with all my heart, Davidson Smythe—just don’t call me madam.”
His laughter filled in the empty places in her soul as he lowered his lips to hers.
A GIFT FROM HOME
Book Four
By C. H. Admirand
Book Four ~ A Gift From Home
Dedication and Acknowledgements … Page 723
Prologue … Page 724
Chapter 1 … Page 726
Chapter 2 … Page 736
Chapter 3 … Page 747
Chapter 4 … Page 763
Chapter 5 … Page 776
Chapter 6 … Page 789
Chapter 7 … Page 810
Chapter 8 … Page 825
Chapter 9 … Page 836
Chapter 10 … Page 854
Chapter 11 … Page 867
Chapter 12 … Page 877
Chapter 13 … Page 886
Chapter 14 … Page 898
Chapter 15 … Page 910
Chapter 16 … Page 921
Chapter 17 … Page 930
Chapter 18 … Page 947
Chapter 19 … Page 963
Chapter 20 … Page 976
Epilogue … Page 983
About the Author … Page 984
Author Bio … Page 985
C.H. Admirand Booklist … Page 986 and 987
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my real-life hero, the love of my life, DJ.
Acknowledgments
A very special thank-you to Sahara Kelly and P and N Graphics, LLC for designing such fabulous covers for my Irish Western Series.
And to the three generations of feisty Irish-American women in my family: Garahan, Flaherty, Daly, and Purcell. Your sharp tongues, hard heads and big hearts have kept our family strong.
Prologue
Ireland 1872
“Dry yer eyes, Jessi.” When she sniffled and mopped her eyes with the back of her hands, he added, “There’s a lass.”
“Don’t go, John,” she whispered, knowing he would. Heart in her eyes, she watched him hug his mother, turn and start walking up the gangplank to the ship that would take him across an ocean wider than her thirteen-year-old mind could imagine. Devastated that he would leave, desperate to make him stay, she called out to him.
He stopped, turned back and walked over to where she stood. Sighing, he traced the line of her jaw with his fingertip and spoke softly. “While I’m gone, don’t break any hearts, lass.”
She shook her head. Impossible, when she’d know exactly what it felt like to have one breaking in her own breast.
Whether he took the shake of her head as meaning she would do as he asked, she didn’t know or care. The pain ripping through her child’s heart nearly drove her to her knees. She’d loved John Reilly for as long as she could remember. In that moment, she aged ten years. Jessi Keely Fahy still appeared gangly and scrawny on the outside, but inside, she had a woman’s heart, and it was broken.
As if sensing something was bothering her, more than just his leaving, John touched the tip of his finger to her nose, tapping it. “You’ll be the first lass I’ll kiss when I come home.”
“In five years, then?” Widow Reilly asked as a whistle sounded the ship’s imminent departure.
“Aye,” he answered, turning toward the ship and sprinting for it. Leaning over the railing, he called out, “I’ll write!”
Watching the ship slip away from the dock, Jessi knew the next five years would be the hardest of her life. But a promise was as good as a man giving his word. The only difference, in her eyes, was that a man’s word was immediate, his promise . . . well, that was for the future.
“Oh, lassie, I’ll miss me boy.” Mrs. Reilly finally broke down and started to cry.
When Jessi saw the first tear spill over onto the older woman’s cheeks, she felt the dam break inside of her. The two stood together on the dock, hearts shattered, tears flowing as the man
they loved sailed off to find his place in the world.
Lord, Jessi prayed silently, Please let his place in the world be wherever I’m standing.
Chapter One
Six Years Later
Jessi’s heart pounded at a furious pace, keeping time with her feet as she raced back to Widow Reilly’s cottage from town.
Her left hand clutched the reason she ignored the sharp bite of the early spring morning, wearing only a light woolen shawl wrapped about her slender shoulders.
She noticed the wet patch of dirt in the road, and skimmed along the edge of it. Her boots caught and slipped in the mud. Wind-milling her arms, she regained her balance and kept on running. Not slowing down as she approached the cottage, she burst through the door, yelling, “ ’Tis here!” Drawing in a much-needed breath, she called out again, “Mother Reilly?”
“Have ye no sense at all, Jessi Fahy?” a deep voice demanded.
She whirled around. “Aiden!”
He shook his head, staring down at her feet. “If ye haven’t a care for the time it takes to scrub the floor, at least think of me poor ma’s old bones.”
“Aiden Reilly!”
Both Jessi and Aiden cringed at the sharp tone of his mother’s voice. The woman sounded as if she were ready to blast the both of them to Kingdom Come, Jessi for muddying her clean floor and Aiden for calling his mother’s bones old. Knowing she’d have to act fast to distract the woman, Jessi waved the letter in front of Mrs. Reilly’s face.
“If ye have no respect for yer own moth—”
As she’d hoped, Widow Reilly stopped mid-tirade, and turned away from her son to stare at Jessi. “What have ye there, lass?”
Jessi handed the letter over. “ ’Tis from himself—all the way from Colorado.”
Aiden sniffed and shrugged a shoulder as if he couldn’t care less, but his eyes gave him away. Longing and sorrow swirled in their pale brown depths. “News from me wayward brother, then.”
Jessi bit the tip of her tongue to keep from defending John. He had been wandering America, traveling from the shore he’d landed on, nearly clear across to the other, while Aiden and his younger brother were still at home, tilling the soil and shearing the sheep. But John had continued to do his part for his widowed mother; he’d sent money home. More than Jessi had imagined existed in the whole west of Ireland.
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