The Defiant Hearts Series Box Set

by Sydney Jane Baily

  Old enough to have had a lover, she added to herself, or to be a married woman with babies. Certainly old enough to ride on a horse with a man. But this particular man was playing havoc with her senses.

  "So these 'critters' you mentioned?" came his voice, so close behind her.

  Without turning, she said, "Coyotes occasionally. Rattlesnakes, but hardly any. I just take the shovel to them. And wolves, once in a blue moon. Even less, since the bounty increased on their pelts."

  "Even so, that seems an inordinate number of threats," he commented.

  She laughed, thinking how it must sound to someone who had lived in the city his whole life. "Thaddeus and I played outside our whole childhood. Nothing ever bothered us. If a wolf comes by, you just stamp your feet hard and yell and it runs off; same with the coyotes."

  Even though it was less than a handful of minutes by horse, Charlotte had never been happier to see her home than when they rounded the grove of pine trees that grew on the edge of the Sanborn homestead. She was ready to jump off the horse but waited patiently as Reed slowed it down for the last few yards. She had the notion again that he was enjoying this far too much and gaining his amusement at her expense.

  She bore it out regally, even waiting for him to assist her from the saddle after he dismounted. This was accomplished with an economy of movement as Charlotte aimed to deny him another view of her woven cotton stockings.

  However, there was no denying the scorching touch of his hands at her waist, a sensation that seared right through her blouse to her skin as she slid from the saddle. Too close, she stepped back quickly as he set her down, only to bounce off the side of the sweating horse. She didn't miss the glimmer of a smile in Reed Malloy's blue eyes.

  "I'll put the horse in the stable," he told her looking down at her flushed face. "Why don't you check on the children."

  So pleased to escape, she didn't even argue with his command and hurried off to find Lily and Thomas. As it turned out, they were playing happily in the parlor, having built a sturdy fort out of chairs. It was only once inside and away from Reed's presence that Charlotte concluded the heady feeling of being so close to him was a fairly pleasant—if unfamiliarly disconcerting—sensation.

  With a shameful wickedness that surprised her, she wondered what it would feel like to have his entire body up against her own. And on that note, she retired upstairs to take a cool sponge bath, not even giving a thought to the unfinished article that waited in her study.

  Chapter 4

  Charlotte was up early the next day, closeted in her study until nearly noon.

  "Hallelujah," she exclaimed, jumping up from her desk after sealing the manuscript in a large brown envelope. She had never been more relieved to finish an article. With it out of the way, she could better deal with Reed Malloy.

  She ran her fingers through her long hair and assured that there were no large snarls, she twisted it up quickly into her usual functional knot. Leaving her study, Charlotte headed outside the house where she could hear Reed and the children laughing over something.

  She stopped at the back steps, pausing at the sight of Reed running for all he was worth to catch Thomas, who dodged with nimble ease until he finally ran between Reed's legs.

  "You're still it, Uncle Reed," Lily called out. Charlotte spotted the little girl in the lower branch of her only apple tree that grew near the small paddock. Alfred, Charlotte's ancient horse, standing next to Reed's rented mare, seemed to be watching with some interest over the fence.

  Charlotte felt she and old Alfred had something in common then, both watching but not participating. She hungered for the laughter and the delight in the children's faces. She sighed and took a seat on the steps, feeling as fenced in as her horse.

  Reed turned and spotted her. To her amazement, after a momentary pause, he headed straight for her at full chisel. She shrank back on the steps, her eyes wide, as he came to a grinding halt just in front of her. His eyes seemed to match the clear Colorado sky, and his hair, usually neatly brushed, was curling up all over his head, with one irresistible lock hanging over his brow. Her hand itched to twist his soft, dark hair between her fingertips.

  He grinned down at her, and Charlotte felt her breath catch in her throat. His hand snaked out and lightly slapped her own, leaving a slight, warm stinging.

  She looked at her hand then up at him, too amazed to speak.

  "You, Miss Sanborn, are now it." With that, Reed darted off to stop behind the apple tree where Lily still perched.

  "I'm it," Charlotte repeated. So, she was not going to be allowed to remain an observer after all. How wonderful! She recalled playing the game when she was a small girl, before... before it became impossible to play. Later, she'd watched Teddy with some of the children in the school yard, and there were some moves she still remembered.

  "Then beware, all three of you," she called out, standing up and racing down the steps, heading first toward Lily.

  The little girl scampered higher up in the tree just out of Charlotte's reach. Reed had dashed away the moment Charlotte started running, so she turned to Thomas who hovered nearby, clearly wanting to be chased.

  He screamed with glee as she closed in on him and then darted around her. He was good at this—small, elusive, and quick—and Charlotte nearly tripped herself up. She paused and then, without a care for impropriety, bent down and pulled the back hem of her skirt forward between her legs and then up, tucking it in her waistband.

  She looked down at her new guise, resembling a Turk from one of her father's history books. At least she wouldn't break her neck.

  Not caring a whit for her white stockings, she took off in pursuit of Thomas once more, hearing Reed cheer her on.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he had relaxed, standing nearly close enough to reach. Lily dropped to the ground, and Charlotte pretended to head for her. At the last minute, she changed direction, charging directly at Reed.

  His face registered his surprise, but he had no time to react before she threw herself at him—literally. She hit him like a buffalo on a rampage, helpless now to stop her momentum. Reed couldn't withstand the onslaught, falling over and taking her with him onto the soft grass. Her hair, having come out of its loose knot, flew all around them in a wild whirl of reddish brown.

  Charlotte felt his warm, hard body beneath her, then on top of her as they rolled. She had closed her eyes at the last moment and heard the children's laughter.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw Reed looking down at her, his dark-haired head framed by the painfully clear and bright azure sky above.

  The coolness of the grass beneath her seeped through her thin cotton dress, but the front of her was aflame where the weight of his muscles pressed into her, pinning her down. It was a delicious heat that burned through her a pleasurable sizzle. Her entire body was tingling. She opened her mouth to catch the breath she had knocked out of herself and saw his glance dart to her parted lips.

  "You certainly play to win," he murmured.

  Teddy had always said the same thing. It was he, in fact, who had taught her that maneuver, striking the opponent like a cannonball. She'd been on the receiving end once or twice. However, she never thought she'd use it on a fully grown male.

  Without thinking, she said, "And you are it, Mr. Malloy."

  He opened his mouth to respond, but the children's giggles stole his attention. He stiffened, his whole body tensing on top of her, as if caught by surprise.

  In truth, the sensations swirling through her—and the smell of Reed's maleness mixed with the fragrance of fresh grass, the dazzling light of day, the soft breeze carrying hundreds of spring aromas, not to mention the feel of his thighs and his chest on her—had caused her to forget that she and this man were not completely alone in the world.

  Reed glanced once more into her eyes, his expression unreadable, before rolling sideways, to lie on his back beside her as the children ran up.

  "That was great, Aunt Char
lotte," Lily said. "Who's it now?"

  "He is," Charlotte replied, jerking a thumb toward Reed. She laughed, feeling breathless and sat up, only to freeze a moment later at the feel of his hand on her back. He brushed up and down, and she realized foolishly that he was only removing blades of grass.

  It didn't matter, her heart felt as if it were beating at double its normal rate. He was sitting up beside her now, and she let the curtain of her hair fall between them to shield her blushing features.

  He rose to his feet, and Charlotte looked up as he offered her his hand. She hesitated, then grabbed hold of it. It was as she remembered from their first handshake, warm and strong, and this time she felt the broadness of his palm as it closed around her own.

  In a moment, she was pulled to her feet as if she weighed no more than a child. He didn't immediately release his hold as their eyes met again, and she saw behind the amusement a glint of some dark, mysterious emotion swirling interestingly in the depths. Finally, he released her.

  With his touch removed, Charlotte felt released from the frozen moment.

  "How about some lunch?" she offered. She could see by the sun that it was past noon. "You three must have worked up quite an appetite with such carryings-on." Frankly, she admitted to herself, she didn't think her constitution was up to any more physical contact with Reed Malloy.

  As if he understood that, he agreed. "Lunch it is."

  The children ran on ahead.

  "Your writing must be coming along well," he ventured.

  He referred, of course, to the fact that she'd come out of her study at all. She gave him a smile filled with all the joy she felt at being done with her writing for the day, at having shared a delightful moment with her cousin's children, and most of all, at how alive Reed made her feel.

  "I'll take that beautiful smile as a yes."

  * * *

  That afternoon, Reed offered to take her completed assignment into town to the post that left on the express train, while attending to his own business using Spring City's telegraph system. This meant, of course, that she stayed alone with Thomas and Lily.

  To Charlotte's amazement, she enjoyed sitting with the children while they played. There were make-believe games, followed by hide-and-seek, first in the house and then outside among the wildflowers and fir trees that grew in abundance on her property.

  Lily said it was as pretty as some of the Boston Public Gardens where her mother used to take her to play. Charlotte only wished that it looked as it had in her own mother's day, with a cultivated flower garden on either side of the front door, a vegetable garden in the back, and red and yellow roses climbing about on trellises all around the house.

  By late afternoon, when Charlotte heard an approaching horse, she looked up expecting to see Reed; instead it was Sarah Cuthins, her round, smiling face abruptly changing to shock at the sight of two children playing in front of Charlotte's house.

  "Whatever have we here?" she asked without any pretense of disinterest as she drew her horse to a halt. "Why, what sweet little ones."

  Charlotte went over to meet her neighbor. Straightaway, Thomas ducked behind Lily who came to stand by Charlotte.

  "These are my young cousins from Massachusetts. Lillian and Thomas Connors. Children, say hello to Mrs. Cuthins, my neighbor."

  Lily murmured a polite hello; Thomas, of course, said nothing.

  "I can see now why you haven't been by for a meal, Charlotte. I was worried about you. But it seems you've had your hands busy." Suddenly her round forehead frowned deeply. "How did they get here? Are you feeding them?"

  Charlotte didn't take offense at that one. Sarah knew her too well.

  "They came by train, and yes, they're being fed. They're having three meals a day."

  She didn't feel the need to add that she wasn't the one cooking the meals; after all, neighborly need-to-know only went so far. Then the expected wagon came into view around the pines. Charlotte felt a butterfly take flight in her stomach. She wasn't at all sure she wanted Sarah to know that Reed Malloy, a bachelor and a handsome one at that, was staying in her house.

  Sarah turned to the sound of the horse and then looked at Charlotte with raised eyebrows. "And this is?"

  "The children's solicitor from Boston," Charlotte finished in a tone that she hoped sounded as if no more information would follow. If anything, Sarah's eyebrows only rose higher, her warm brown eyes open wide. By this time, Reed had dismounted and was striding toward them.

  He stood beside Charlotte and the children, and looked down at the bulky figure of Sarah Cuthins. Charlotte hastily made introductions.

  "So happy to meet you," Sarah said, actually sounding coquettish when faced with a dashing stranger from the east.

  "The pleasure is all mine, Madame," Reed returned.

  "It's time we got the children washed up," Charlotte began, "and started the... the..." She faltered; it was too early for supper.

  "Started the chores," Reed finished helpfully. "Children, you heard your aunt. Say good-bye to Mrs. Cuthins."

  This met with the same immediate success as all of Reed's orders, and the children murmured a farewell before scampering inside the house.

  Obviously, Sarah wanted to stay and chat; however, since no invitation was forthcoming, she could do nothing but allow Reed to help her onto her wagon seat.

  "I guess I'll be off then, seeing as you're all right," she added. "Oh, the food! Since it's already cooked, you might just as soon have it as not. There's enough for all of you," she put in, looking questioningly at Reed. He only smiled.

  "How kind of you," Charlotte said, taking down a basket and handing it to Reed before taking a second one from Sarah. "Your cooking is always a treat."

  "I do hope your ready-made family likes it, Charlotte. I'll be seeing you soon. Good day." Sarah clicked the reins and her horse started down the drive. She had a bemused smile on her face when she looked back at them at least twice.

  Charlotte groaned as they walked toward the house.

  "What?" Reed asked, stopping on the front porch and balancing the basket casually against one knee.

  "It'll be all over the valley before sunset," she told him, sitting on the swing that she'd repaired so many times over the years she couldn't count.

  He began pawing through the contents of Sarah's offering, finally pulling out a custard tart. Satisfied by his choice, he looked up at her.

  "What?" he asked again before taking a big bite of the treat.

  She sighed. How could the man be so dim?

  "That the odd female writer has a man of no relation and two children staying with her."

  "At least the children are relatives," he offered, but it was clearly not meant to ease her mind, and Charlotte grasped that he'd known all along what was worrying her. And he was amused!

  "It's not funny, Mr. Malloy. I have to live here. What if my neighbors want to ride me out of town on a rail?"

  Perhaps he was trying to look serious but he was failing. He finished up the tart in two more bites.

  "I didn't think you cared a fig for what people thought of you. They all think you're eccentric anyway, don't they?"

  That hurt. What's more, she did care. She longed to fit in, if only she knew how. She had feared for years that it was too late, that any attempts by her to enter into the social life of Spring City would be rebuffed, and she would be laughed at.

  But what did Reed Malloy think? That she was odd, that she didn't care about anyone else's opinion? Did he think she was made of stone?

  The expression on her face must have been morose, indeed, for he came to crouch before the swing, his eyes locked on hers.

  "I was only teasing. I'm sure that the good people of Spring City think that you're as upstanding and straight-laced as they are. Even more so, since you live the life of a hermit."

  She winced. "I never meant to be a hermit."

  She tried to laugh as if none of his words mattered. But failing dismally, she lowered her eyes and starte
d to play with the red cloth covering the basket on her lap.

  "What did you intend for your life? You don't like being thought of as eccentric or as a hermit or as a wanton woman." He was speaking so plainly, he deserved an honest answer.

  "I guess, at this point, I'd settle for ordinary."

  Without warning, his hand was on her chin, raising her face and forcing her to look at him. "That you'll never be, lady writer. Don't pretend to be any different from who you are." He paused, seeming to search her green gaze for the very essence of her being, and she was certain his head moved a little closer to her own. "But don't hide from what life has to offer either. There's more to the world, Miss Sanborn, than this homestead outside of a little town called Spring City."

  He was going to kiss her. She knew it, absolutely, from the look on his face to the intensity in his sky-blue eyes. His hand was still on her chin. All he had to do was hold her there and then bring his mouth a little closer.

  "We're hungry," came Lily's call from just inside the screen door.

  Charlotte gasped, and she watched Reed's eyes widen slightly with surprise. Then he smiled.

  "As for the rumors, they'll all blow over," he said, fixing her with that intense gaze once more, filled with mischievous laughter, "or maybe we'll give them a real reason to gossip."

  With that threatening statement, he took the basket from her, retrieved his own, and left her alone on the porch, her pulse still racing.

  Charlotte stared after him, trying to calm the flutter that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her stomach.

  Chapter 5

  The peculiarity of having them in her home began to wear off by the following week. The awkwardness of running into Reed Malloy when she went to the water closet or came out of the bathing room in her father's banyan, of finding a man's razor by the bathtub and little girl's stockings in the wash bowl—all of those had happened and been passed over and were now being ignored as if these occurrences had always taken place.