WHISPERING HILLS
OF LOVE
BOOK THREE
AMERICAN WILDERNESS SERIES ROMANCE
DOROTHY WILEY
WHISPERING HILLS OF LOVE
Dorothy Wiley
Copyright © 2015 Dorothy Wiley
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author.
ISBN: 1497482917
ISBN-13: 978-1497482913
Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill
Author website www.dorothywiley.com
Whispering Hills of Love is a fictional novel inspired by history, rather than a precise account of history. Except for historically prominent personages, the characters are fictional and names, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Each book in the series can be read independently.
For the sake of understanding, the author used language for her characters for the modern reader rather than strictly reflecting the far more formal speech and writing patterns of the 18th century.
Other Titles by Dorothy Wiley
WILDERNESS TRAIL OF LOVE
NEW FRONTIER OF LOVE
Dedication
To my dear sister Maria
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PROLOGUE
Just east of the Shenandoah Mountains,
northern Virginia, Summer 1797
The western horizon claimed the warmth and light of the sun, leaving Kelly to cry sitting in the darkness, her heart and body aching.
After tapping lightly on the door, William carried a bucket full of water inside and sat it on her table. Grey tendrils of steam curled up off the top of the bucket. He had heated the water. Then she watched as he built a fine fire in her small stone hearth.
She gazed at him for a long moment, then closed her eyes tightly, squeezing out even more tears. She thought her tears might fill another bucket. But she couldn’t stop weeping, not yet.
He sighed heavily. “Goodnight,” he said simply as he turned to leave. “Stephen and I will sleep outdoors. We’re used to it anyway. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe. I swear.”
Her bruised arms and a tattered blanket wrapped tightly against her, and still shaking, she could only nod to thank him.
William responded with a warm smile that lit up his kind face.
After he left, she stared at the wooden plank door to her cabin, wanting to remember the warmth in that smile, the only bright spot in the darkest day of her life. He was already her hero. Not just because he and his younger brother Stephen saved her, but his kindness was something she hadn’t felt since her mother died. Someone had actually done something for her. For four years, no one had done even the simplest thing for her.
Kelly needed to wash herself thoroughly in the nearby creek. But for now, the bucket of cistern water William had thoughtfully heated would just have to do. She made herself stand and walk to the door, slid the bolt into place, and removed her ripped and bloodied clothing. She picked up a square of cloth and dipped it into the water. Why was the rag shaking? Rubbing some soap across the cloth, she stared at the terrible rope burns on her wrists and winced when the warm water touched her raw skin. Her ankles burned too.
But her torn raw skin did not hurt nearly as much as the terror branded on her heart.
Kelly closed her eyes to the images—like a mirror in her mind—a special mirror capable of replaying the horror in vivid detail over and over. Seeing it all again made her feel depraved and her body soiled with a filth she would never be able to wash away. She squeezed her eyes as tight as she possibly could but it did not break the mirror. She pounded her fists against her forehead, hating the images.
Feeling vulnerable all over again, she tried to swallow the hot emotions tightening her throat. She wanted to scream, scream, scream, but instead choked back a cry.
Unable to continue standing, she sat down. Shame and anger entwined inside her and wove a heavy dark shroud around her heart. The weight of it threatened to stop her heart completely and she lowered her head to the table top.
Wanting to regain control of herself, Kelly took slow deep breaths until she felt calm enough to at least raise her head. She forced herself to think about something else. She would think about William and his brother. Who were they? Why did they come here, to this remote place? William had said something about being a sheriff in pursuit of murderers.
Oh God, those men could have murdered her! But they hadn’t. She was alive. And she would go on living despite everything they did to her. Scrubbing her tears from her face with the back of her hand, she stood and made herself finish washing. Maybe concentrating on that would stop the wave of apprehension beginning to sweep through her, threatening to overcome her mind.
She needed to make sense of it all. Ben Jack and Grover were dead. She clung to that thought for a moment. William and Stephen had killed her rapists. Thank you God for sending help. Just a few minutes ago, they had dragged the two bodies outside. Then William explained that he was in pursuit of the two vile men, and tracked them here because they had killed their friend’s husband. They heard Kelly’s screams, burst in, and shot Ben Jack and Grover, saving her.
But not from rape. They were too late to save her from that.
Finished with washing and dressing, she turned to the pile of her ripped clothing. She owned only two well-worn gowns, but she never wanted to see the clothes those men had touched ever again even if it meant wearing the same dress for the rest of her life. She flung the garments into the hearth fire and then pitched the wash rag in too. As the wet cloth hit the flames, it sizzled and steamed, matching her growing anger.
She watched her dress burn, wishing the fire could burn her humiliation away too. Through her tears of shame, the fire’s flames sparkled and wavered, blurry and softened. When the tears slid down her bruised cheeks, Kelly turned away from the fire and grabbed her Bible, clutching it to her breast as if it were hugging her, not the other way around. Kelly sat and rocked herself until she could finally open the book.
As she did every night, she read by the warm light of the hearth fire. Her mother’s dying wish had been that Kelly read her Bible every day and she had faithfully complied. There were only two other books in the cabin anyway. She’d read them so many times the covers fell off, and the pages came loose. Since her mother died, the three precious books and her animals were the only company she had. She often battled a fierce adversary—lonesomeness. Her trapper father left her alon
e here for weeks at a time. The isolation and solitude sometimes left her feeling empty, like a bowl with nothing in it.
When he was home, her Papa spent most days drunk and occasionally that made him a little violent. She understood the reason for his fury, but she couldn’t understand why he took it out on her. Or why he found showing her affection so difficult. Weren’t fathers supposed to love their daughters?
Forcing her thoughts back to her reading, she finished the chapter and put the Bible on the small overturned crate next to her bed. The good book had been right there when Ben Jack attacked her, but the sight of it didn’t stop him.
Maybe if she had never let them inside the cabin it wouldn’t have happened. Her home seemed changed now. She glanced around the room, remembering happier times when both her parents loved her and each other. That was before all the bad came—her mother’s sudden death, her father’s drunkenness, and now this.
When Ben Jack and Grover showed up yesterday, she’d been feeling especially lonesome. The big empty spot inside of her had spread and loneliness threatened to consume her entirely. Without a friend in the world, she relished the idea of company, even though her common sense told her to beware of the two strangers. She desperately wanted to just talk to somebody. And they had seemed like such nice young men. Never had she been more wrong.
Remembering the deception of the two wolves in sheep’s clothing, her lips twisted in anger and her temper flared. She needed to go to bed before the few shreds of control she’d managed to muster disappeared completely. She said her nightly prayer, quoting a verse from Psalms 103 aloud. “The Lord executeth righteousness and judgment for all that are oppressed.” God had seen justice done. She should bury her anger. If only she could.
“Thank you Father for delivering me from evil, for sending two good men to replace two evil ones. Forgive me of my sins as I forgive those who have sinned against me,” Kelly prayed, struggling not to cry, and to believe what she was saying.
Can I ever forgive? As she asked herself the question, hatred again welled up inside her like an angry bristling animal. She doubted she would ever be able to feel forgiveness. For now, anger claimed her and it felt right. Better than tears. She wanted to hate those men and her lips pressed together as she thought about how she would punish them if they were still alive.
She heard a soft knock on the door. Not up to talking to them, she ignored it. She would let them think she was asleep.
“Kelly,” she heard William call in a gentle voice. “We just wanted to be sure you were okay. If you need us, or anything at all, we’ll be right out here. Try to sleep. Tomorrow will be a better day. I promise.”
“How can he promise such a thing?” Kelly whispered to herself. She crawled into bed and clutching the ragged old quilt tightly in both hands, drew it up to her chin. Laying on her side, she stared into the dim light of the waning hearth fire. She again pictured the same vivid images—visions of a nightmare. But you can wake from a nightmare. This time, there would be no waking up to find that everything was the same. Now, everything had changed. Forever.
She wanted to dream now—to escape the oppressive memory if only for a little while. But sleep would not come. Her wrists throbbed and the rawness between her legs remained an incessant stinging reminder. And her mind filled with how it felt when he thrust himself into her, tearing her like a rag.
It felt like what it was—a savage violation—of not just her body, but her soul as well.
She sank into pure misery. She could hear the muffled voices of the two brothers talking outdoors, but she still felt horribly alone. Abandoned. Robbed. Cheated. Damaged.
But most of all, shamed.
She gazed out the small window beside her bed, hoping she could still see the pink and red wildflowers that grew beyond her cabin in peaceful clusters among the rolling verdant hills. But they lay hidden in the darkness waiting for a new day.
“He promised tomorrow would be a better day,” she whispered to her beloved hills.
And somehow, she knew he spoke the truth.
CHAPTER 1
Boonesborough, Kentucky, Fall 1797
William Wyllie scanned the fort’s largest room once more hoping to set his eyes on Kelly. He was certain she would come. The crowded noisy room, constructed of sturdy pine logs, contained Boonesborough’s leading citizens, including its Mayor, director of the land office, members of the militia, Judge Webb, and Kentucky’s most famous son Daniel Boone. A number of people stood gathered around Colonel Boone, including William’s oldest brother Sam and their adopted Scots brother Bear—by far the largest man in the room.
William’s eyes halted, but his heartbeat quickened, when he finally spotted Kelly. She stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, the bright sun behind her outlining her shapely silhouette. Radiant and smiling tentatively, she walked in with stiff dignity, escorted by her employer. William’s eyes weren’t the only ones taking notice. He saw many of the men in attendance glance toward Kelly—her beauty turning heads all over the room.
The temptation to race over to her before some other man did flew into his head, but he held himself back. He had forced himself to take this one slowly and he would continue to do so. At least until he knew for a certainty that Kelly was prepared for a man’s attentions.
Admittedly, he often behaved impulsively—and sometimes he even acted in a ready, fire, aim manner. And he never did anything slowly, especially when it came to relationships with females. He often found himself enamored with a woman on the spur-of-the-moment and then, just as spontaneously, he would become besotted with another. With few exceptions, he found most women charming and many downright bewitching.
But none of them compared favorably to Kelly. This was far too important to rush. He needed to treat Kelly carefully. He had to give her ample time to heal and become the woman he knew she was. In the meantime, he would be certain no one else hurt her ever again.
For weeks, he had left her alone, giving her mind time to mend itself. But with each day that passed, he found that simple task more burdensome. From time to time, he would see her in town for a moment or two and have a chance to exchange a few words. He had savored every minute with her, but those moments were rare and they left him wanting more.
What he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her. To protect her forever. To cover those soft pink lips with his—to cherish her in a way he had never felt toward any woman ever before. He wanted to treat her gently, to show her that what happens between a man and a woman should be soft and tender. And passionate.
Was she ready yet?
He observed her for a few moments before approaching her. She stood off by herself, almost in the corner of the room, twisting her hands and shifting her slight weight from side to side. Her big eyes, so blue they appeared violet, darted from person to person around the room and then widened when she caught sight of him.
Mister Wolfe had told William recently that Kelly worried him because she showed signs of fretfulness and seemed to be growing increasingly ill at ease. Wolfe was hoping that William could help him figure out what might be wrong. William had not revealed the probable reason for her nervousness. Nor would he, ever.
Unable to hold himself back any longer, he swiftly crossed the crowded room to make his way to her. “Thank you for coming to my swearing in ceremony, Kelly,” he said when he reached her. He put his hand on her shoulder in a possessive gesture, and let it rest there a moment.
“Mister Wolfe gave me the afternoon off. He knows how close I am to your family,” Kelly said, a slight tremor in her voice, “and he escorted me here.” Her eyes darted around the room. “There he is over there.” She pointed to the portly balding fellow, a land speculator and one of Boonesborough’s wealthiest and most respected citizens. William knew him well.
As she pointed, William noticed her hand trembling ever so slightly. He had never seen that before.
“Then I must thank him for that kindness later,” he said. “And I hope you w
ill join me afterwards for the cake and coffee social. I’m supposed to meet even more of Boonesborough’s fine citizenry. I’ll never remember all their names.”
“Of course. It’s not every day that a man is officially sworn in as the sheriff of a town. Even though you’ve been serving as sheriff for these past few weeks, this is quite an honor William.”
“I am honored. I just hope I’ll be able to live up to everyone’s expectations, especially those of Judge Webb,” he said, raising his brows.
Kelly grinned slightly and it delighted William’s heart. He wished he could see her smile more often. It felt like warm sunshine on his face.
“The Judge undoubtedly thinks a lot of you since he appointed you acting sheriff until you could be elected. When you defended your brothers against those vile murderers, you must have impressed him.”
“Still, I want to prove he made the right decision,” William said. In the short time he’d been in Kentucky, he’d grown fond of the gruff old Judge.
“Judge Webb does seem to be a bit rough around the edges,” she said, as they both looked around the room for the Judge. “There he is, standing next to Daniel Boone.”
The judge wore a serious grey wool jacket and grey breeches. Both matched his smoke colored hair and his peppery no-nonsense personality. Colonel Boone, however, wore a longer black jacket, accented with gold buttons down the lapels, with black leather breeches and tall boots made of a fine leather. His dark clothing set off his snow white hair.
“Let’s join them,” William suggested. “Judge Webb, Colonel Boone, may I introduce our family friend Kelly McGuffin.”
After both men greeted Kelly, William asked Judge Webb, “What’s the secret to how a good sheriff enforces the law.”
“It’s no damn mystery. It’s this,” Webb said, holding up his pistol, as if the answer were obvious.
William laughed and said, “And I guess if I asked how a good judge dispenses the law you’d hold up a sturdy noose.”
Webb turned to Boone. “The boy learns fast.”
Whispering Hills of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 3) Page 1
