by Jillian Hart
“On three!” Joseph’s words rose above the noise and commotion and he began to count down. He grabbed hold of the front wheel well and when the men and horses pulled and pushed together, the deep mud relinquished its hold on the buggy.
Slowly, painfully, the vehicle lumbered out of the muck and onto solid ground.
“I told you so,” the woman at her side said kindly. “Everything will be right as rain. Yes, that surely is a fine young man you have there. I suppose he is fixing to propose soon?”
Tender emotion ached in her throat, making it impossible to answer. Tears swam in her eyes, blurring the man. He raised his hand in thanks to his fellow townsmen and everyone dispersed—
the men returning to their wagons, businesses and errands. The only thing she noticed was the impressive man striding toward her. The man too good to be true; but he was.
He was.
“You all right?” He took the cup from her hands, setting it out of sight. “I heard you took a bump to your head.”
“I’m fine.” Her voice came unnaturally thick and raw. Vulnerable, she hated how she had doubted him. Worst of all, he knew she doubted him. What a failure she was.
“You don’t look fine.” He caressed away stray curls. His knuckles grazed her skin and stirred up more longing and desire, more love and dreams. All it took was his touch and she was helpless.
“You have a small bump right here.” His baritone rumbled intimately, as if they were alone together. He leaned closer and closer still, until his lips grazed her forehead with a gentle, healing kiss. “Maybe that will help.”
“Yes.” He transfixed her, holding her captive with his tenderness and chasing away every doubt. But it didn’t change the truth. “I didn’t believe in you, Joseph. I thought—”
“I know.” He cut her off, as if to save her from hurting. “You don’t have to fear being abandoned. I would never leave you. I love you, Clara. Can you see that?”
“I do.” Fear lashed through her, fear of being hurt and left.
But they were only that: fears. Hard-won lessons in life, but they did not serve her now. Joseph was her one chance for true love and she did not want to fail him again. “I should have known, Joseph. I still can’t believe you chose me.”
“Then I will say it again. I love you, Clara.” He took her into his arms, the safest place she had ever known. “I will say it as many times as it takes. I love you.” He kissed the middle of her forehead. “I love you.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“I love you,” she vowed, reaching up to cradle his face with both of her hands. His jaw was slightly rough and as strong as steel. Her heart opened up, and she let go of her fears one by one. His lips brushed hers, sending heated tingles through every part of her.
It was like sitting on the sled on the crest of the hillside, when she had been afraid of crashing, of getting hurt. But that hadn’t happened, because Joseph had caught her. And, she knew now, he always would.
“Say that again,” he said, breaking their kiss. “I want to hear it over and over.”
“I love you, Joseph Brooks.” She brushed a kiss to his cheek.
“I want to love you forever.”
“Golly, am I a lucky man.” He chuckled. The warm sound vibrated through her as he hauled her tight against his chest.
“Forever sounds just fine with me.”
Epilogue
“I’m real nervous about this, and there’s no call for it.” Joseph leaned against the fence railing and took one long look at the ring sparkling in his hand. Two weeks had passed and each day had been better than the last. He had gone riding with Clara, buggy driving, taking her shopping in town and out to their land for her approval on the house he was building. Warm early-summer sunshine warmed his back and magnified the flawless diamond. This was the ring Clara would wear for the rest of their life together.
Don Quixote arched his neck over the top rail and snorted his opinion.
“Yeah, I know. It’s foolish to be nervous.” Joseph rubbed his free hand along his best buddy’s nose. “She’s already told me she loves me. I know she wants to marry me. But it’s a daunting thing, asking a woman to be your wife.”
The stallion nodded his head vigorously and stomped his right-front hoof. Apparently he had a suggestion on what might make his master forget his jitters and focus on what mattered.
“Whoa, there, fella. That’s my future wife you’re talking about.” Not that he could blame him. The thought of being married to the most beautiful woman in Mountain County and going to bed with her every night sure put a grin on his face. “I had best get to it. I want to make this official.”
The stallion nickered, as if wondering what the hesitation was about.
All it took was one glance at Clara and his nerves quieted. His jitters silenced. Happiness lapped through him, and it was his future he saw, with every day happier than the next and every night filled with passion. Not to be disrespectful, but that was sure something he was ready to discover. With any luck, Clara would want a very short engagement.
She looked as pretty as a princess, picking rosebuds off the bushes next to the porch. The pink dress she wore, one of the many he’d purchased from the town’s seamstress for her, complemented her womanly curves perfectly. She must have sensed him coming because she turned to him, a welcome smile shaping her rosebud mouth—the mouth he hungered to cover with kisses as soon as they were alone together.
“Joseph.” His name sounded perfect on her voice, layered with love and happiness. Clara plucked another rose stem. “Did you and Don Quixote have a good talk?”
“As a matter of fact, we did.” Mindful of his entire family watching from the porch, he gave Clara only one brief kiss and not the countless hot, lingering kisses he hungered for. “He gave me some good advice.”
“Oh? What did he advise?”
“This.” He knelt in the grass in front of her and took her left hand in his. That brought his ma to her feet and put a spark in his pa’s eyes. Brother Nate grinned widely in approval, seated next to his wife, who held their sleeping baby. Looked like his family approved of Clara, especially Ma, who had tears on her cheeks.
“Clara Woodrow.” He said her name with all the love in his heart. “Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
“Yes. It would be my honor to marry you, Joseph.” Joy transformed her, making her ever more beautiful. She gasped as he slid the ring on her slender finger. “It’s breathtaking.
Thank you. I’m just—”
“Happy?” he asked, rising to take her in his arms. “A little nervous? It’s a big step.”
“It’s everything. Joseph, you are everything.” She laid her hands flat on his chest, the ring sparkling like the most precious vow. “You are my heart’s dream.”
“And you are mine, my beloved.” He kissed her ardently, drawing her tight against him until she blushed. She could feel his arousal, and desire curled through her.
“I love you so much.” It was so easy to see their future together. Exchanging vows as man and wife right here in Mary’s lovely garden, living together in the cabin until their beautiful home was built and loving each other through the days and nights of their long and happy marriage.
“Looks like we have a wedding to plan!” Mary swiped at her tears, but they kept rolling down her apple cheeks. “Joseph, you have made me very happy.”
“Well done, son,” Mr. Brooks added pridefully from behind his newspaper. Even Gabe, the oldest Brooks son, who generally disapproved of marriage, offered a smile of congratulations.
“I want a quick wedding,” Joseph whispered in her ear, holding her tight enough that she could well feel what was on his mind.
“The sooner the better,” she said shyly, hoping he knew what she could not say. She desired him, too, this man who made her feel as cherished as a storybook princess.
As the family gathered round to look at the ring and offer advice on the wedding, Joseph’s hand never left hers. S
ome dreams, she learned, came true. This man’s love was the one thing she could always count on.
“How does next month sound?” she offered, already envisioning their wedding with sunshine and sweet mountain breezes and roses. Lots of roses.
“Not soon enough,” Joseph quipped. “How about next week?”
“That’s not enough time!” Mary protested. “What about a wedding gown? What about the arrangements?”
“Next week sounds perfect to me.” She didn’t care about having a new dress made. What she cared about was Joseph and starting her life as his wife.
“Yep, absolutely perfect,” he agreed with a wink, and she knew that look in his eyes. They laughed together, and she had no doubts. Her life with Joseph would be just like this moment, happy and full of love and laughter.
* * * * *
COURTING MISS PERFECT
Judith Stacy
Dear Reader,
I’m often asked where I get the ideas for my books. Though I’ve written twenty-three romance novels, the seed from which each book grew has been very different.
While napping, the vision of a rugged cowboy in a pink ruffled apron led to The Heart of a Hero. The title Married by Midnight popped into my head during a doctor’s visit and I liked it so much I wrote a book to go with it. The Last Bride in Texas was inspired by my work as a volunteer tutor for the Los Angeles County Adult Literacy program.
Courting Miss Perfect was much easier. While visiting my sister Martha Cooper at her home in Virginia, she showed me a set of books she’d acquired from the estate of her late mother-in-law Latha Cooper. The ten volume set, The Mental Effi ciency Series, was published in 1915 and included such titles as Character: How to Strengthen it; Common Sense: How to Exercise it; Personality: How to Build it.
Martha told me I should write a story about a young woman traveling the West selling books. That fabulous idea led to Courting Miss Perfect.
I hope you enjoy the adventures of Brynn O’Keefe who, with her book Planning Perfection, escapes scandal in Richmond, runs afoul of the law, finds a lost treasure of jewels and meets a handsome railroad detective who shows her what “perfect”
really means.
Best wishes,
Judith Stacy
With much love to David, Stacy, Judy and Seth, and special thanks to Martha Cooper, Latha Cooper, Bonnie Stone, Leighton Stone and Kitty Vollbrecht.
Chapter One
Texas, 1886
How rude.
Brynn O’Keefe jerked her chin and stared out the window of the passenger car, breaking away from the penetrating gaze of the man seated nearby. He was positively the most ill-mannered man she’d encountered on this trip—or possibly ever.
Seated across the aisle and one row up, the man had inconsiderately stretched his long legs across the seat beside him, barring anyone from using it, and turned sideways so that he faced her. He held up a newspaper, as if he were reading, but they’d been aboard this train for over an hour now and Brynn had yet to see him turn the page. It was merely a ploy to stare at her.
Even though she wore a silk traveling dress, unlike most of the women onboard, who wore gingham or calico, and was considerably younger—only twenty-one years old—she hardly expected to be ogled like a show horse on the auction block.
Really, just who did this man think he was?
Brynn clasped her hands together on her lap and reminded herself this was hardly the worst insult she’d endured these past few weeks. And if it hadn’t been for Aunt Sadie allowing her to come along on this trip west, things would have only gotten worse back home in Richmond.
Brynn didn’t want to imagine just how much worse.
She fixed her attention out the window at the Texas landscape rolling past beneath the bright midday sun. The journey from Virginia that Brynn and her aunt Sadie had begun several weeks ago had taken them ever westward and, up until this morning, everything had gone smoothly.
Now Aunt Sadie lay ill in their hotel room back in Hayden and Brynn was making this leg of their trip alone. She’d wanted to stay and care for her aunt, but she had insisted Brynn go on without her. Dolly, Sadie’s traveling secretary, was there to attend her, and too much was at stake for them to cancel.
Brynn hadn’t dared defy her aunt. She was lucky to be here, lucky to get away from Richmond after what had happened—
Good gracious, he was staring at her again!
Brynn pinched her lips together and averted her gaze. How rude could one man possibly be?
Perhaps she was expecting too much, Brynn decided. After all, this stranger was hardly the sort of man she was accustomed to back home in Richmond, where men wore suits, starched shirts and linen cravats. This man had on denim trousers, a pale blue shirt beneath a black vest and a black Stetson pulled low on his forehead.
He looked dangerous.
Brynn stole a quick glance, then averted her gaze. Yes, he looked dangerous, sinister even.
It was his size, she decided. She could see how tall, how muscular he was even seated. Wide shoulders. A broad chest.
Probably very strong.
She chanced another look, this time catching a glimpse of his face beneath his wide hat brim. His eyes shifted, moved, so that nothing escaped his attention, and his square jaw was set as if he expected—perhaps even welcomed—trouble.
Definitely not a gentleman.
“Won’t be much longer now,” the man beside her said.
Brynn turned to him. Now this was a gentleman. He wore a nice suit. His shoes shone with fresh polish. She figured him for about the same age as her older brother. He was pleasant looking—certainly not threatening in any way.
She’d met him quite by chance this morning while boarding the train in Hayden. He’d introduced himself as Mr. Hiram Smith and gallantly assisted with her trunks, saving her the expense of tipping the porter. Then he’d requested, quite respectfully, the honor of sitting next to her on their journey. He’d made the perfect traveling companion.
“We’ll arrive in Harmony a bit early,” Hiram announced as he snapped his pocket watch closed and tucked it away.
A little knot of worry coiled inside Brynn. She hadn’t relished the idea of making the journey from Hayden to the town of Harmony alone, without Aunt Sadie. Until they’d embarked on this trip—this “adventure,” Aunt Sadie had called it—Brynn had seldom been away from home, and certainly had never traveled alone, unescorted and unchaperoned.
Once more Brynn reminded herself that her life was different now. She had to adjust. And, above all, she couldn’t let Aunt Sadie down.
“Is someone meeting you at the station?” Hiram asked.
The ladies of Harmony expected her and would be on hand to welcome her and get her settled, just as the women had done at all the other stops she and Aunt Sadie had made on their tour.
“The mayor’s wife,” Brynn said.
Mr. Smith’s eyes widened. “My, how impressive. That book of your aunt’s must be something.”
Brynn smiled, genuinely proud of her aunt’s accomplishments. Not only had she written a book essential to the wellbeing of every woman alive, but she’d also arranged this journey to the West, taking her vital message to those who needed it most.
Brynn knew the ladies of Harmony would be disappointed when she stepped off the train alone and explained that Aunt Sadie herself wouldn’t be there to discuss and sell her book at the event that was planned. But the ladies would forget soon enough. Brynn had heard her aunt’s speeches so many times she could recite them in her sleep.
“How long will you be staying in Harmony?” Brynn asked.
Hiram had mentioned he was a salesman, dispatched from a large textile company in New York.
“Sometimes I stay a day, other times longer. Depends on how sales go.” Hiram gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Let’s hope the ladies of Harmony are in a generous frame of mind, for both our sakes.”
The pitching and rocking of the train slowed and the whistle pierced th
e air as they pulled into the station. Passengers rustled in their seats, gathering their belongings. Hiram was the first on his feet.
“I’ll see to your trunks,” he told her, and headed down the aisle.
“Thank you,” Brynn said, rising. “That’s very—oh!”
Someone brushed past, knocking her back into her seat. Brynn looked up. It was him. That awful man who’d been staring at her throughout the entire trip. She watched as he pushed his way down the aisle, jostling the other passengers, and disappeared out the door.
“Of all the nerve…” Brynn mumbled as she straightened her hat.
She gathered her handbag and followed the slow procession of passengers out of the car. She wished she had a few minutes to freshen up before the mayor’s wife greeted her. A good first impression was essential.
Around her, travelers crowded the platform craning their necks, searching for friends and family. Shouts rang out as loved ones spotted each other.
Steam hissed from the locomotive. Porters moved trunks out of the baggage car. Freight wagons stood ready, their teams of horses tossing their heads and pawing at the dirt.
So much commotion. She hadn’t noticed it before at other train stations, when Aunt Sadie and her secretary had been with her.
Brynn tucked an errant dark curl behind her ear and forced a pleasant, composed expression onto her face. The mayor’s wife would be here any second.
And where was Hiram with her trunks?
Brynn rose on her toes, scanning the crowd. No sign of him.
But not to worry, she told herself, he’d be along momentarily.
The mayor’s wife would appear and see that she got to her hotel, and everything would be fine.
Sharp voices drew her attention. She spotted Hiram near the entrance to the station. The conductor was next to him and so was—good gracious, it was that awful man from across the aisle.