Accidental Fiancee (21 page)

“I would also like to hear that Max’s
message
meant as much to you as Max himself. You want your imaginary hero to ride up and save the day, but when it comes right down to it, you do not believe that he will. So you take matters into your own hands. Max was not only a surprise, he was a statement.” He pulled her a little closer. “Grace, there
is
a man who will be your Max if you will only let him.”

She closed her eyes and sighed as the tears that had been pooled slid out of the corners of her eyelids.

He prayed they were tears of joy. He finished by leaning close to her ear and whispering, “And I want the reason that you wore the emeralds to mean that you want our betrothal to be as real to you as it has become to me.”

He stopped when she opened her eyes and smiled at him intimately, with a look he hoped she saved forever just for him...until he thought about what he was doing. He let go of her then and walked away from her. “I want all of that, my sweet life, even knowing all the while that it will not do.”

She did not follow him, but he knew what color her eyes had turned without even seeing them when she asked, “Brandon?”

“Grace, you have been sequestered and wrapped in cotton your entire life. You know only a third of my scandals. God would not take lightly your ruin by association with me.” He turned back to her and said quietly, “And neither would I.”

She ran across the room and threw her arms around his neck. He would not let her go now for all the wealth or fame in the world. And she did not seem to care. She whispered in his ear, “
Our
God has enough grace to blot out all of your dastardly deeds, my love.”

He held her even tighter when she called him her love, and then put her a little away from him.

“My darling, Grace, will you...” He stopped, let her go, then walked to the door and locked it.

He came slowly back to her, drew her into his arms and kissed her. He kissed her as he had at their betrothal ball, and she was breathless when he stopped.

He led her to the sofa in front of the fireplace and sat down with her, keeping his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. They were almost nose to nose, intently waiting for what the other would say. He whispered, “Finally, Grace, I want you to tell me you love me even half as much as I have come to love you. Will you marry me?”

“Oh, Brandon,” she cried. She pulled away a little so she could put her hand on his face. “I have loved you for weeks, but I promised I would not tie you to the betrothal. I misunderstood when I saw you kissing Lady Winslow...”

“She was kissing
me,
my dear.” His mischievous dimple appeared. “You will have to get used to it. Happens all the time,” he declared, while kissing her nose. “You are marrying an ex-rake, you know.”

“Brandon,” she said, furrowing her brows, “when I saw it, I thought we had gone on too long for you.” She moved her hand and rubbed his beautiful dimple. “When you sent Max, I dared to hope. But I did not know where to start. Knowing that you would be waiting for your emeralds to be returned to you, and knowing the lengths I went to to protect them, I hoped that wearing them today would get your attention.”

“Ah, we are back to understatement!” He kissed her again. “My sweet life, you always had my attention. And you have not yet answered my question.”

He stood and pulled her up gently with him. He put his hands on her waist and she rested her palms on his arms. There was nothing between them but honesty. “You told me that God could save me by His grace. Your life has been a testimony to me—not just now, but as far back as my first meeting with Lord Langdon, after meeting you. I was not able to lie to him because of you. Your scruples touched me.”

She smiled. “I have always known you had scruples, Brandon, from the moment you told me of your elopement.
I
had no need to know that for our connection, but you felt I needed to. I have trusted you implicitly and I promise you that you may trust me from now on.” She looked up at him with an impish grin. “I do not care how many people threaten to kill you.”

“Minx!” He tugged her into his arms and held her as if he would never let her go. “I want that grace you told me about, my sweet life. I want a marriage blessed by God, to be worthy of the blessing He has given me through you.” In her ear, he whispered, “
Will
you marry me, Grace?”

She pulled out of his arms, though he protested. She reached up into the spray of roses in her hair and pulled something out of it. In the center of her palm was the emerald engagement ring, which she handed to him a little shyly. “Yes, Brandon, I will marry you, with all my heart, forever.” And she buried her face in his chest.

He pushed her away gently. “You understand I do not intend to wait three weeks for the banns to be read and wedding gowns to be made and—”

“As soon as a special license can be obtained, my lord.”

“And I will be a reformed rake, so no more of these public displays of affection, my lady.”

“Lord Weston, you are perilously close to having your ears boxed.”

He laughed out loud. He took her hand and placed the ring on her finger. “I missed doing that the first time. I will not miss out on those things again, I promise you.” He put her hand through the crook of his arm, placed his free one on top and slowly started toward the library door. “You must not be troubled, when we announce our reengagement, if there are a number of women more than a little upset.”

“You may be a rake, but now you are
my
rake. And I do not share very well!” She stopped their pace and looked up at him lovingly. It took his breath away. “Never truly believing the emeralds were mine, I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for them. I hope you know that I really do love them and will cherish them always.”

He turned to her fully and cupped her face in his hands, then leaned down and kissed her tenderly. He kept his hands on her face and just stared a moment into her wondrous eyes. “My one and only life, the emeralds are family jewels. They will pass onto our children, then to our grandchildren. However, my darling, that will never be of concern to me.”

Grace looked at him with a puzzled expression, not understanding what he was trying to say.

“When we marry, my love, I know that every time I gaze into your beautiful green eyes, I will be looking at the
real
Weston emeralds.

“Remind me, what is that verse you told me about? ‘Without grace it is impossible to please Him...’”

“No, Brandon, it is without
faith.
”

“No, my sweet life, it is without
Grace.
”

* * * * *

Read on for an extract from WOLF CREEK FATHER by Penny Richards.

Dear Reader
,

I have been so happy to share Brandon and Grace’s journey with you. If you have read my other books, you know that the Regency Period comes to life for me! And I aspire to using that history to tell a story with a sincere, Godly message embedded in a wonderful love story.

It is here that I need to make an “author’s note.” An author’s note is where we get to explain our foibles. As you have read the story, you have never heard Grace or Brandon call each other fiancé(e). That is because the term did not become practice until the mid 1830s, almost twenty years after the date of this story. However, in order to reach a broader scope of readers, Love Inspired wished to use something more approachable in the title. It is common practice when writing historical fiction, but I wanted my avid Regency readers to understand how the word came to be used in the title of the book. I appreciate your forbearance.

With
Accidental Fiancée
I have been able to introduce you to my first rake, Lord Weston. The wonderful sense of humor that emerged from him because he
was
a rake was especially fun for me. And because he could never fall in love with someone who did not share that trait, Grace was sure to give him as good as she got! I grew up with a fun-loving family and my husband has a wonderful sense of humor. I hope you got a glimmer of how important that trait is to me through Brandon and Grace.

Though Brandon saw Grace’s belief in God from the beginning, he also recognized the good she tried to do for others, which poured out from that belief. And even though her faith was something foreign to him, he did not ridicule it or ignore it. He watched her, studied her and ultimately realized she walked her talk. Therefore, he did not dampen her desire to tell him about God, but learned to embrace her spirituality as she did.

It was important for me to convey in the story Grace’s question as to whether rakes were men who were rogues by nature, or turned into them by circumstances in their lives. Every day, we come into contact with others with not-so-nice labels on them, and we have the chance to touch them for God, to tell them about His grace. If we portray our belief in every aspect of our lives and to everyone we meet, He will put people in our paths. What a blessing for us!

It has been a while since my last book, so I am especially thankful you hung in there with me! I am privileged and blessed to be able to share what I love doing with you. God gets every bit of the glory for any way you were touched, because He is with me and behind me in each chapter and word. I pray the message of His grace will help you where you are today.

I love to hear from readers. Please let me know what you thought by visiting my website at
marymooreauthor.com
or by emailing me at
[email protected]
. I am also available on Facebook at
facebook.com/mmooreauthor
and on Twitter at
twitter.com/sugarbean1020
. I look forward to hearing from you!

God bless you,

Mary Moore

Questions for Discussion

1. A key theme throughout
   Accidental Fiancée
   was God’s grace. List and discuss other themes or messages that resonated with you.
   
2. Did any one character strike a chord with you? Why or why not?
   
3. Comment on how God used very unusual circumstances to bring two people to love each other. Does it relate to any of your relationships?
   
4. Grace had good intentions when she decided to rescue Lord Weston. Have you ever tried to help someone and ended up making the original problem worse? Has someone ever gotten mad at you for trying to help him or her?
   
5. Why do you think it was so hard for Brandon to believe that his past could simply be washed away by God’s grace? Did Grace’s reminders give you any peace about it in your own life?
   
6. What does Ephesians 2:8 mean to you? How does it manifest itself in your daily walk? Do you believe that God’s grace is sufficient for you? Why?
   
7. At one point, Grace asked herself if the ends justified the means in their decision to portray themselves as betrothed while in London. Have you ever struggled with that question and how did you resolve it?
   
8. Regency England had strict codes of conduct that seem silly to us today (i.e., having to marry someone because you were caught kissing her hand!). Has the moral code of today moved too far away from that time? Why or why not? Is there a middle ground? Explain.
   
9. Grace and Brandon go through two serious misunderstandings that are compounded by the actions they take immediately after. Do you handle misunderstandings any better than they did? How should they be handled?
   
10. Brandon was fortunate enough to gain Lord Langdon as a mentor. Has there been someone in your life you looked up to as a mentor? How did this person’s counsel help you?
    
11. Grace thought no one in London would believe Brandon would marry her, because of her relationship with God. Have you ever been in a situation where you were looked down upon for your beliefs or felt as though you must hide them in certain situations?
    
12. Discuss one thing you really liked about the story.
    
13. Grace tried to live her life as God would want, so could not reconcile lying to the world about their engagement. What are some of the ways you refuse to compromise your beliefs?
    
14. Does Grace and Lord Weston’s passion for helping the orphans of their day challenge you to want to help the orphans of our day?
    

Chapter One

Wolf Creek, Arkansas
—1886

S
heriff Colt Garrett sat behind the desk that faced the jail’s front door. His chair was cocked back on two legs and his booted feet rested on the desk’s scarred top. Hands laced behind his head, he stared in moody contemplation at the rough-sawn wood of the ceiling.

He was in the doldrums and his life was in a rut. Ever since Ellie Carpenter had told him there was no sense in taking their fledgling relationship any further than the friendship they shared, his life had settled into a grating sameness. A few words and
poof!
Another potential wife was gone, a reminder that change could happen fast and without warning, something he’d forgotten in the years since his wife, Patrice, had been taken from him.

Though he’d be the first to admit that he was not suffering from a broken heart over Ellie’s rejection, he’d looked forward to the time he spent with her. Now his days had settled into boring predictability. He felt like some of the older folks in town must feel. They had their set routines and heaven help anyone who disrupted them. Except Colt wished something
would
happen to shake up the even tenor of his days. He came to work, ate lunch at home, the café or Hattie’s, and then went home, slept and repeated the sequence day after day.

There hadn’t even been any major crime lately to take his mind off things—not that he was complaining about that. The robberies he’d dealt with in the spring had seen one of his friends injured and another wrongly incarcerated. No, Wolf Creek didn’t need any more crime. It was just that he was lonesome, as lonesome as the rain crow outside his open window sounded.

He hated going home and having no one to share the ups and downs of his day with except a couple of kids. Not that he didn’t love them. He did. But he wasn’t too proud to admit that he not only wanted a wife, but also needed one. His kids needed a mother. Cilla was growing up, and more and more Colt felt that a woman’s influence was essential. What did he know about young girls on the verge of womanhood?

Brady needed a mom to kiss his cuts and scrapes, and he himself...well, he was tired of trying to deal with problems he had no earthly idea how to solve, so he supposed he could add that he was an ineffective father to his general misery.

He wanted to hold hands with a woman as they walked along Wolf Creek. Wanted to have someone listen as he talked about his day, and he wanted to hear about hers. He wanted someone next to him at night. He wanted a wife.

Since taking the sheriff’s position more than a year ago, he’d courted a few of the town’s single ladies, but the relationships had reached a certain point and fizzled out, and pickings were mighty slim in a town the size of Wolf Creek.

To top it all off, Ellie had flat-out told him that part of his problem was that whenever he showed interest in anyone, his two children launched an all-out campaign to sabotage the courtship. She’d been the recipient of some of their ploys, and that, along with her own reasons for not becoming more involved, had ended that!

He was so caught up in his unhappiness that the turning of the doorknob didn’t register. Not until the sound of the door slamming and someone stomping across the room penetrated his reverie did he lower his arms and his gaze to see what was afoot.

He was shocked to see Brady and Cilla’s teacher bearing down on him, her bosom heaving as if she’d run for several blocks. Miss Grainger’s sassy little chipped-straw hat sat cockeyed on her head, and a lone fabric rose dangled over one eye. Her freckled face was as red as the hair scraped back into a severe bun atop her head. One curling, recalcitrant strand trailed down one cheek and onto her shoulder. She was squinting at him as she neared the desk, but even though her eyes were narrowed to mere slits, there was no mistaking the fury blazing there.

What now? Putting on his most professional mien, Colt swung his feet to the floor and sat up straight, as befitting his station. He offered her a friendly smile, which fled when the usually polite teacher slapped something onto the desk with a gloved hand. He stared down at the mangled item. Hmm. Gold wire and a round piece of glass with a webbing of cracks that looked as if a spider had been plying its skill.

He glanced up at the squinting Miss Grainger and back at the object. Glasses! He was looking at a pair of beyond-redemption eyewear. The metal frames were crunched, one lens was cracked and the other missing completely.

He was about to ask her what on earth had happened when a familiar feeling sent his stomach into a sickening lurch. His mind whispered that while he might not know
what
had happened, he was pretty sure he knew
who
had done the deed.

“Well?” the teacher snapped. “Aren’t you going to say something?” Her usual warm contralto was shrill with outrage.

Resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands, Colt looked up at her with a puzzled expression as fake as the roses adorning her bedraggled headpiece.

“Uh, what happened to your glasses?” he managed to say, after swallowing a lump the size of Texas.

The petite, plump teacher placed her palms flat on the desk and leaned toward him, her crocheted reticule dangling from her wrist. “Your children happened!” she spat out. “They accosted me!”

Colt’s heart sank, but he sat even straighter. This young woman—obviously too young and inexperienced to be in charge of a classroom of children—had just accused his two offspring of a disgraceful act. Parental outrage kicked in, erasing the fact that Miss Grainger had only confirmed his own suspicion that Brady and Cilla were responsible for the damage he was looking at. Never mind their guilt or innocence. This woman had verbally
attacked
his children! Flesh of his flesh. Blood of his blood. It would not do. It would not do at all.

“Perhaps you should explain yourself, Miss Grainger,” he suggested through clenched teeth. “Tell me what happened to put you in such a snit.”

“Snit?
Snit?
” Her eyes widened and her voice climbed at least two octaves. Then she squeezed her eyes shut, drew herself up to her full height—all of five feet and maybe an inch or two if he had to guess—and took a deep breath, trying to regain control of her emotions and her temper.

When she opened her eyes, it was a toss-up as to whether it worked or not. The heat of battle still smoldered there.

“By all means, Sheriff,” she said in a well-modulated, low-pitched voice, taking care to enunciate each word with utmost care. “I am in a
snit,
as you put it, because I was assaulted by your...your hooli—” Her mouth snapped shut and she pressed her lips together to keep from crossing the invisible line of civility. “Your
children
in the mercantile.”

Colt bolted to his feet, mimicking her stance. He leaned across the expanse of the desk, his tawny eyes as narrow as hers as they faced each other almost nose to nose. He was a tall man, with more than enough muscle to make most men back down, and he possessed a ruthless expression he could muster in a heartbeat. Many a lawbreaker and bully had been known to tremble before the combination.

Pint-size Miss Grainger didn’t budge an inch.

“Now see here!” he growled. “Those are pretty harsh words. How can two kids, age seven and twelve,
assault
a grown woman?”

Still regarding him through narrowed eyes, she spluttered, “Brady...
p-pushed
me.”

Was it Colt’s imagination or was there a hint of trembling in her voice?

“Your children, sir, are a menace to polite society, and I begin to fear that much of the fault must be laid at your feet.”

“My fault?” Colt exploded. He told himself that his thunderous response was a normal reaction to this...this mousy little...
twit
speaking about his precious children in such a derogatory way. Miss Grainger’s eyes widened in sudden fright and her face paled, making her freckles stand out against the chalky whiteness. Colt suspected he’d overreacted.

Not very professional, he chided himself silently as they stood glaring at each other. He’d always prided himself on his professionalism, but this woman rubbed him the wrong way. Always had, though he had no reason why.

Okay, Colt. No more yelling.
He had a reputation to maintain, after all. But dagnabbit, it was a blow to his image that she stood there so defiant and unafraid. He decided to try “the scowl” once more.

He folded his arms across his chest and fixed her with another intense look. As he let his gaze bore into hers he couldn’t help noticing that her eyes, an unusual sherry-hued brown, were set beneath delicately shaped eyebrows a couple of shades darker than her hair and framed by thick, curly lashes. The hazy, almost unfocused softness he saw in them belied her anger, and went a long way toward cooling his.

She licked her lips in a nervous gesture, drawing his gaze to her mouth. Funny. He’d never noticed just what a nice mouth she had, maybe because more often than not her lips were pressed into a prim, no-nonsense line. Now, all moist and soft-looking, she gave the impression of a woman who had just been well and soundly kissed, though it was hard to imagine any man being interested enough in the fiery-haired, fiery-tempered teacher to do so.

Colt reined in his thoughts. No way did this termagant have any softness. Kissing her would be like kissing a board. No, a wildcat, maybe. He gave his head an imperceptible shake and straightened, breaking the strange spell that seemed for a moment to bind them.

In response, she blinked and squared her shoulders, drawing attention to the rows of ruffles marching down the front of her pale yellow shirtwaist, intended no doubt to disguise her plumpness.

“Yes, um, your fault,” she reiterated, but she sounded vague, as if she’d lost her train of thought. Then she raised her chin, mustering her indignation once more. “As I have said on more than one occasion, your children are out of control. I have requested time and again that you do something about it, but this time I demand that you take them in hand.”

The words themselves condemned and challenged, but her voice seemed to have lost some of its sharpness. She
had
told him more than once that Brady and Cilla were disruptive in school. Now with Ellie’s newest accusations echoing through his mind, he realized it was time he stopped delaying the talk he should have had with them long ago and get to the bottom of things. Just one more thing a woman would be much better at handling.

Still, it didn’t sit well that she’d gone from asking to demanding that he take charge of his children, but it was plain to see that there was no getting around this latest transgression with one of his glib apologies and a promise to “take care of it.” He sighed and waved a hand toward the chair across from him.

“Have a seat, Miss Grainger,” he offered, struggling to make his tone professional and conciliatory. “I need to hear your version of what happened before I decide on a course of action.”

Regarding him with more than a little suspicion, she perched on the chair’s edge, almost as if she were readying herself to jump up and flee should the need arise. Her back was ramrod-straight, and her rounded chin was lifted to an angle just shy of haughty. Her gloved hands clutched the small drawstring purse resting in her lap.

Colt took his own chair, pressed the tips of his fingers together and, resting his elbows on the wooden arms of the chair, pressed his tented fingers against his lips while he regarded her with an expression of polite inquiry.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning, Miss Grainger,” he suggested, happy to hear that he sounded more or less like his usual controlled self.

Looking a bit taken aback by the sudden change in his attitude, Miss Grainger blinked again, cleared her throat and began with a bit of hesitation. “I, uh, went into the general store to pick up the Earl Grey tea Mr. Gentry had specially ordered for me.”

Tea! What sort of red-blooded American drank tea instead of coffee? Colt wondered. He managed to hold back a disgusted snort—just. Still, he noticed that she, too, sounded more like the concerned schoolteacher he’d dealt with so often the previous school year. He rotated his hand at the wrist, indicating that she should continue.

“I saw Brady and Priscilla at the counter,” she told him, leaning forward. “They seemed to be trying to decide what kind of candy they wanted. I smiled at them and asked Brady how his summer reading was going and if he thought it was helping him be better prepared when school took up again.”

Colt felt a jolt of guilt. Brady was falling further and further behind in all his subjects, and Miss Grainger seemed to think it was because his reading wasn’t up to snuff. She’d called Colt to a meeting before school let out, suggesting that he not only encourage his son to read during the summer, but also that Colt spend time each day working on it with him.

Brady had been furious. So had Colt. When he’d expressed his displeasure to Ellie and suggested that perhaps her sister wasn’t the teacher everyone thought she was and that maybe she was picking on Brady, Ellie had told him in no uncertain terms that her youngest sibling was very qualified and pointed out that the suggestion had nothing to do with “picking” on anyone. Instead, it demonstrated her concern over Brady’s continued lack of progress.

Put in those terms, Colt had bowed to the teacher’s wisdom. Now, faced with the upstanding Miss Grainger and the look of expectancy on her face, he realized that he’d been more than a little lax carrying out her request. His only excuse was that Brady’s reading was pure torture for them both, not something he wanted to do at the end of a hard day. It was the sort of thing a wife should contend with.

If he had a wife.

When he made no comment, she continued. “Brady became very...agitated and told me he hated reading, and that it was summertime and he had no intention of doing schoolwork when he was supposed to be having time off from it. I suggested that it was for his good and explained that reading can be very pleasurable. I told him that when a person reads he can go anywhere, be anyone and do anything within the pages of a book.”