Jessica’s feet came clear off the ground as he lifted her and swung her in a circle.
“I love you,” she whispered in his ear, astonished by how quickly she could utter those words to a man she thought she barely knew, but now it felt so right, and so comfortable.
“I love you, too.”
When he set her down, he gazed into her eyes for a second, then pressed his lips to hers.
In that instant, Jessica knew it was true. His lips were the same. The kiss was the same.
He was Truman. Her Truman.
He brushed her hair away from her face. Jessica touched her necklace—the one Truman had returned to her just before he died.
The pain of that day still ached inside her, but as she looked at this man before her, she realized it was fading fast. Truman had indeed come back to her. He had promised her forever, and he had kept that promise.
She reached up and touched Jake’s cheek. In his eyes, she saw the ageless connection they shared.
He held his hands out in front of him, turned them over and looked at his palms. “These hands…they’ve never held a gun, and they never will.”
She trembled with joy. Everything that had happened made sense now.
“It’s not going to be just us, you know,” she said, grinning mischievously, resting her hand on her belly.
The news registered on Jake’s face, and Jessica saw the faint memory of his own demons disappearing. “I know.”
“How do you know?”
He gave an apologetic shrug. “I’m a doc. When they brought you in, I was involved. I followed your progress, but I couldn’t say anything to anyone. And I knew I had to give you time to recover before I dropped this on you.” He pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. “I’m so happy,” he said. “This time, I promise, everything really is going to be all right.”
A gentle sigh of a breeze blew across their faces, hinting at hope and contentment.
Jessica stepped back and nodded. “I think it’s going to be better than all right.”
Then her cell phone rang, and his BlackBerry vibrated at his belt. They reached for them quickly, then looked at each other and laughed.
“Let’s shut these off,” he said, moving close to her again. He slid his warm hand up under the hair at her nape and whispered in her ear. “It’s high time we got out of here, don’t you think?”
She glanced up at him flirtatiously as a delicious rush of desire shivered through her. “That depends. What did you have in mind, Sheriff? And dare I ask—will handcuffs be involved?”
He smirked and led her toward his Mustang. “I’m game if you are.”
He opened the door for her and waited until she was comfortably seated on the leather upholstery before he shut the door, circled around the front, and got into the driver’s seat. He slid the key into the ignition, started the engine, and pushed a button to lower the top.
“Do you remember Angus Maxwell?” he said, while the top retracted and folded away.
“Yes, of course. Why? Is there some news about him?”
Jake turned down the volume on the radio. “Nothing recent, but when I was researching I came upon some announcements in the old newspapers. He married Wendy Smith, and they had three children. All of his descendants are living right here in Dodge.”
A tiny thrill moved through her. “Have you tried to contact them?”
He shook his head. “No, but I’ll be willing if it’s something you want to do.”
Jessica smiled at him as a fresh breeze blew through her hair. “We’ll have to think about that.”
He revved the engine and adjusted the rearview mirror.
“Did you know I’m a writer?” she asked.
“Of course. I read your column religiously. I especially liked the one about how to train for the New York Marathon. I’m thinking about doing that.”
“Yeah?” She sat up straighter as her passion for running sparked in her veins. “Me, too. But we’d have to qualify.”
He shifted into reverse to back out of the parking spot. “I’m sure we could help each other out. You strike me as the competitive type. How early do you like to get up on a Saturday morning?”
“Very early,” she replied, “unless there’s a reckless consumption of moonshine the night before, which shouldn’t happen too often, I hope.”
“I’ll try not to be a bad influence.” He hit the gas and headed toward the exit.
“I’m also thinking about writing a book,” she added.
He drove under the museum archway, pulled out onto the street, and shifted into second gear. “Really?” He looked her square in the eye. “That sounds amazing. What kind of book?”
“A romance novel,” she replied. “Maybe a time travel.”
Jake put on his sunglasses and grinned at her. “What would you call it?”
She slipped off one of her red stilettos and massaged her calf and arch while she thought about it. “Taken by the Cowboy,” she said at last, “and I shouldn’t have to do much research at all.”
He chuckled softly. “That sounds like something I might like to read. Just make sure you work in those red stilettos somehow, because they’re really hot.” He shifted into second gear and sped up the street. “Now let’s go to the costume shop and see if we can rustle up a pair of handcuffs and a leather gun belt.”
“And a hat,” Jessica added as she leaned close and laid her hand on his gorgeous muscular thigh, “because there’s just something about a man in a Stetson.”
They turned a corner, and he shifted smoothly into third.
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for taking the time to read A Time for Love. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, you might like to try some of my other historical romances. Read on for an excerpt from Be My Prince, which is book #1 in my Regency era Royal Trilogy. Following that, you’ll find descriptions of the other titles in that series, as well as a complete booklist.
And if you haven’t read the first two books in the Dodge City Brides Series, I encourage you to check them out as well. Prairie Bride and Tempting the Marshal are historical romances with no time travel elements, but they are full of Wild West adventure and romance, set in Dodge City, just like this one.
If you would like to stay informed about my future releases, or learn about my monthly autographed book giveaway, please visit my website at www. juliannemaclean.com and sign up for my email newsletter. I would love to send news to you. Lastly, if you would like to know when an ebook edition from my backlist goes on sale for 99¢ (or is occasionally offered for free), please go to my author profile on Bookbub and click the “follow” button. You’ll be sent an email whenever there’s a flash sale. I am also on Facebook and Twitter where I chat with readers every day.
Thanks again for reading one of my books, and as always, happy reading!
–Julianne
Other books in the
Dodge City Brides Series
USA Today bestselling author Julianne MacLean delivers three breathtaking and passionate full-length novels featuring rugged alpha-male heroes of the West, all sworn to protect the women they love…
Prairie Bride
Dodge City Brides Series – Book 1
A loveless marriage of convenience on the Kansas prairie turns out to be far more than she bargained for…
HE’S PART OF THE WEST
Briggs Brigman has been burned once before, and the last thing he needs is a beautiful wife who will spend hours in front of the mirror, primping herself. He knows how hard the prairie can be on a woman, and all he wants is a stalwart bride who won’t complain about hauling water from the creek….
SHE’S A CITY GIRL WITH NO IDEA WHAT SHE’S IN FOR…
All Sarah MacFarland wants is to escape her fearful life in Boston and start fresh with a n
ew identity. Answering an advertisement for a mail order bride seems like the perfect solution, until she meets her soon-to-be husband—a ruggedly handsome, strapping farmer who leaves her breathless on their wedding night. But is it possible that two tormented souls can find happiness, when all they know is betrayal, and when trust is the only way out of a tumultuous past that simply won’t stay buried?
“You can always count on Julianne MacLean to deliver ravishing romance that will keep you turning pages until the wee hours of the morning.”
—Teresa Medeiros
Tempting the Marshal
Dodge City Brides Series – Book 2
ALL SHE WANTS IS VENGEANCE
Disguised as a man, Josephine O’Malley strolls into a Dodge City mercantile with one thing on her mind: to even the score with the man who murdered her husband. What she doesn’t count on is Fletcher Collins—the handsome and irresistible new marshal in town—bursting through the doors of the mercantile with guns blazing…and a plan to stop her from pulling the trigger.
HE ONLY WANTS TO PROTECT HER
There’s a new marshal in town, but he’s fighting inner demons of his own. Fletcher Collins is a man who has known his share of heartache, and when he finds himself apprehending a gorgeous widow for murder, he begins to re-evaluate what it means to be a lawman. But if Fletcher is going to keep the widow out of prison—and figure out what’s really going on in Dodge—he’s going to have to learn how to follow his gut. Unfortunately, his gut is telling him that Josephine O’Malley is exactly the kind of woman who could make him break all the rules…
Excerpt from
Be My Prince
Don’t miss book one in
The Royal Trilogy
Attention one and all. His Royal Highness, Prince Randolph of Petersbourg, will set sail for London in early June and reside at St. James Palace for one full month…Some say the true motive for the prince’s visit to our fair country is to seek and marry his future queen. I will therefore pose the question to our devoted and reflective readers: Who among us will be the chosen one?
—From the London Ballroom Society Pages
Lady Alexandra Monroe has more than romance on her mind when she meets handsome Prince Randolph at the Regent’s Ball. While all the other ladies fall for his famous charms, she remains focused on her true goal—to seize the crown of Petersbourg for herself and return her father’s bloodline to the throne. Alexandra is ruthless in her ambitions, until she meets Prince Randolph’s dangerously handsome and seductive younger brother, Nicholas, who arouses her passions in ways she never imagined. Before long, Alexandra finds herself caught up in a complex web of secrets and scandals, where the only hope for her survival is in the arms of the one man she cannot resist—the man she is destined to love forever…
Prologue
From the London Ballroom Society Pages
May 12, 1814
ROYAL VISIT CONFIRMED
Attention one and all. The editors of this paper are delighted to report upon a most auspicious event. His Royal Highness Prince Randolph of Petersbourg will set sail for London in early June and reside at St. James’s Palace for one full month.
The handsome heir to the Petersbourg throne will discuss with the regent a political and military alliance that may result in the amalgamation of our two great and powerful naval fleets.
This favorable military alliance is not, however, the fuel that has fired the ambitions of the great matriarchs of the ton—for some say the true motive for the prince’s visit to our fair country is to seek and marry his future queen.
I will therefore pose the question to our devoted and reflective readers: Who among us will be the chosen one?
Chapter 1
Carlton House, London, June 16, 1814
There were certain days of her life when Lady Alexandra Monroe wished she had been born a man.
This, perhaps, was the most noteworthy of those days, for here she stood in the regent’s overcrowded London reception room, glancing about at all the other impeccably dressed young ladies, each vying for a chance to meet a handsome foreign prince and win from him a proposal of marriage.
It was quite sickening, really, and she was half-tempted to walk out—for surely, she was above all this—but she could not do as she wished, for she had a duty to fulfill. She had been waiting a very long time for this moment.
“Upon my word, look at the jewels on that one,” her stepmother, Lucille, said as she snapped open her ivory-handled fan. “How frightfully vulgar. Just behind me in the blue gown. Do you see?”
Alexandra leaned to the left to peer over her stepmother’s shoulder. “Indeed I do.”
She, too, opened her fan with a smooth flick of her wrist and took note of an older woman by the mantelpiece, studying her with boiling menace. The woman leaned closer to her own charge and whispered something that caused the girl to swing her head around and sneer.
Honestly. This whole evening was nothing short of a bloodthirsty, cutthroat competition. All the ladies were trussed up in their best gowns and jewels, eyeing each other with icy rancor.
If only we had swords and muskets, then the portrait would be complete.
She cheered herself, however, with the notion that it would all be over soon, for she had every intention of charging ahead in the next few minutes and tramping them all down into the dust. Every last one of them. Quickly and without mercy, because no one in this room deserved to sit on the throne of Petersbourg more than she did, and she was not going to surrender without a fight.
“They say he wishes to marry for love,” the Duchess of Pembroke said as she picked up a glass of champagne from a passing footman. “It’s quite charming, do you not agree?”
“I think it’s a silly batch of nonsense,” Lord Brimley replied. “The man is a future king. He must choose a bride who will serve some political purpose. He is responsible for the welfare of his kingdom. Such romantic notions are pure folly, and it arouses great doubt in me that we should even desire a naval alliance with Petersbourg, if this is what we will be subjected to in years to come. Kings must be sensible, and sometimes, when necessary, they must be ruthless. Romance and sentimentality have nothing to do with it.”
“Well, that’s the problem, right there,” Baron Westley added. “The man wasn’t born a royal. He has no understanding of such things. They say his grandfather was a blacksmith.”
“Hush,” someone hissed, from outside their circle.
Alexandra glanced over her shoulder at the daring offender—another mother of a marriageable young daughter who, in all honesty, had very little hope of catching the eye of any prince, for she was wide-eyed and fretful, like a mouse trapped in a corner by cats.
“His father has been king for ten years,” the duchess said, “and that will not change. The people of Petersbourg adore Prince Randolph. Make no mistake about it, Lord Westley, we are about to bow and curtsy to the future King of Petersbourg, and I, for one, find his sizable naval fleet immensely desirable.”
The others, most of them red-nosed and brandy-faced, threw their heads back and laughed.
“I do not understand,” the young lady whispered to Alexandra. “I thought Prince Randolph was a real prince.”
Alexandra leaned close to whisper in her ear, “He is, but without royal blood. His father was general of the military and leader of the Petersbourg Revolution. Do you not know of it?”
The girl quickly shook her head.
Alexandra struggled not to let out a weary sigh and instead searched for a way to explain. “Twenty years ago, the true King of Petersbourg was deposed by the military. The general—Randolph’s father—seized power for himself and formed a democratic government. He was such a compelling leader that they crowned him king. They now have a constitutional monarchy.”
Eyes as wide as saucers, the young lady nodded, but Alexandra was quite certain she was more co
nfused than ever. “Do not fret,” Alex whispered. “He’s a real prince and very handsome. That’s all you need to know.”
“But what happened to the old king?” the young woman asked.
Alexandra bent close again, for she did not wish to be overheard speaking of events that were best left in the past—at least while in the company of all these powerful Whigs and Tories. “He was exiled to Switzerland and died there. The official story is that it was a brief illness, but some say he was murdered by the New Regime. The queen, unfortunately, passed away a few months later after giving birth to a stillborn child.”
“My word. How tragic.”
“Indeed.”
Just then the doors to the reception room flew open. A hush fell over the crowd, which split in two and formed a wide corridor down the center of the red carpet.
“His Royal Highness, Prince Randolph of Petersbourg!” the majordomo announced. “And Her Royal Highness, Princess Rose of Petersbourg!”
The guests curtsied and bowed as the young royals stepped into view and progressed elegantly down the long red carpet to meet the regent, who stood waiting to greet them at the opposite end. With keen eyes, Alexandra took in their appearance—the prince’s especially.
It had been widely reported from many informed sources that he was a handsome man, and Alexandra had no choice but to concur. Only a fool would argue that point, and she was no fool.
Dressed in his impressive royal regalia—a scarlet double-breasted tunic with brass buttons and gold tassled epaulets upon his shoulders, and a jeweled saber sheathed in a shiny black casing—he was a striking figure to be sure. He was tall and dark. His hips were slim, his legs muscular beneath tight knee breeches, his eyes an uncommon shade of blue.
A Time For Love: (A Time Travel Romance) (Dodge City Brides Book 3) Page 23
