I'm
pleased to announce my contribution to Grandma's Wedding Quilts is now
available! Pleasance's First Love is 66% off until
midnight tonight. Grab it for kindle before the price goes up!
Colorado, 1879
His worst mistake was letting her go.
His second-worst mistake? Bringing her home.
His worst mistake was letting her go.
His second-worst mistake? Bringing her home.
No one will ever know how badly Pleasance Benton's abandonment threw Jacob Gideon. He landed hard, hard enough he didn't care to find a replacement. Now that he needs a woman, he figures the safest way is to order one from a catalog.
Pleasance is back to reclaim her rightful place at Jacob's side. One way or another she'll remind him theirs is a match made in heaven...once the shock wears off. The teensy-weensy problem? Jacob doesn't know that she--his first love--is his catalog bride.
He didn’t want her.
A tremendous, awful ache
burned. Fire chewed at her resolve to see this through, to rebuild a new life
with him from the ashes of the former.
Was this how he’d felt when she’d left?
She’d been traveling to something, not away from him.
But he’d not understood.
“Give me one good reason,” Jacob challenged, his voice low and menacing, “why I should let
you stay.”
The warm summer sun could do
nothing to banish the sudden chill.
His love letters had been
matter of fact. A business transaction. Well then, she’d let this be a business transaction. “You want one good reason?”
He’d braced his forearms on his knees, effectively blocking her out.
He faced the road ahead, turned his head just enough to glare at her through
narrowed eyes.
He gave no reply.
“You want one answer.” Love for this man, her man had never left her. He was hers, and it was high time he
accepted that. “I’ll give you three.”
He tensed.
“One: every word I wrote was the bald truth and you chose me.” He’d said
as much, in his letters. He’d had nearly twenty replies through the matrimonial
agency he’d enlisted to find his bride. He’d selected her.
“Second, you must marry to meet the bankers’ stipulations and
secure the loan you need.” He’d written all about the ranch, his plans, and the
roadblock in his way.
He shook his head, rejecting
her reasons.
She wouldn’t let him gain the upper hand. She surged ahead, determined he
would hear her reasons. “Most important of all,” she insisted, vehement, “the
passion between us has not dimmed.”
Without giving him a moment’s
warning, she tossed herself into his arms. She would kiss him with all the
longing four tortured years had inspired, and prove nothing had changed.
She landed across his knee. As if by
reflex, he caught her close.
She fit in his arms perfectly. The first
touch in four anguished years banished the chill. Heat engulfed her.
Breath left his lungs. He moaned.
Or maybe she had.
Either way, one of them started the
kiss—the fire and zest and love—all still there. She’d
dreamed of him, wanted his kisses, missed him so desperately…
This first reunion kiss was…amazing.
The rasp of his beard awakened her senses.
The fullness of his lips reminded her of every kiss, every touch, an entire
history of courtship and love binding them together.
He kissed her as if he were starving, and
she, his only sustenance.
She’d come home.
His
kiss intensified, deepened, made her forget—almost—they were in
the open, in public. Anyone could witness this private, beautiful exchange.
One kiss became five. His hands swept her
back, and eventually settled upon her hips. She’d locked her arms about
his neck early on, and she wished she’d removed her gloves. She wanted to feel the silk of his hair and heat of his skin.
Gloves were such a nuisance.
Jacob must have remembered they were in his
wagon. On the side of the road to Leadville.
He stopped kissing her, holding her, loving
her.
Reluctantly, she allowed him to set her
aside. She shivered.
Banked fire simmered in his familiar,
beautiful eyes. Not blue, not green, not gray. Their own gloriously
light-filled shade of wonderful. “I don’t trust you.”
The
powerful kisses had burned his anger to ash.
“I
know.” He wouldn’t trust her for a long while. She knew that. Just as she knew
everything about this dear, wonderful man.
He stared at the road ahead. “I don’t want to marry
you.”
She clutched.
His kisses, the heat between them had reminded her of everything they’d
once had, of the love brimming between them. Of their last fight—
“I know.” She understood. Truly, she didn’t
expect better. He’d written to Ann Robbins. He’d proposed marriage to Ann
Robbins. He’d built a level of reserved trust, with Ann Robbins.
If Ann weren’t
she and she weren’t Ann, Pleasance would have known a fit of jealousy sharper
than the day she’d received a letter from dear Mrs. O’Kane, telling her Jacob
sought a catalog bride.
She’d
known in that moment what she must do.
“I’m here to stay, Jacob. You sent
for me, proposed marriage, and I agreed. I’m here to marry you.”
Copyright © 2017 Kristin Holt LC
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To learn more about Kristin Holt, visit her Sweet Americana Sweethearts author page: CLICK HERE.
To learn more about Kristin Holt, visit her Sweet Americana Sweethearts author page: CLICK HERE.
Hi! I'm Kristin Holt, USA Today Bestselling Author.
I write
frequent articles (or view recent posts
easily on my Home Page, scroll down) about the nineteenth
century American West–every subject of possible interest to readers,
amateur historians, authors…as all of these tidbits surfaced while researching
for my books. I also blog monthly at SweetRomance Reads,
Sweet AmericanaSweethearts,
and Romancing theGenres.
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