His Mountain Miss (Smoky Mountain Matches)

by Karen Kirst

  “That’s what the boys at school used to say.”

  “They were only teasing you,” she insisted. “Besides, we both know true beauty resides in the heart.”

  Nicole looked thoughtful. “But you have to admit that being well-groomed is important.”

  “Megan, you should come here,” Jane called from the living room. The queer note in her voice brought Megan running. Nicole followed closely behind.

  “What is it?”

  She stood at the door holding a crate, her expression one of confused wonder. “This was delivered for you.”

  “So early? Who was it?”

  “More importantly, what is it?” Nicole asked.

  Peering down into the crate, Megan’s breath hitched. There, huddled together in the corner of the crate on a worn blanket, were two small brown rabbits with white fuzzy tails.

  “Jimmy Dixon said a stuffy-looking man paid him to deliver these to you.” Jane stared at her. “Do you think he was talking about Lucian?”

  A hundred butterflies unleashed in her tummy. “I can’t think of anyone else it could’ve been.”

  Nicole picked one up and cuddled it close to stop its shivering. “I don’t understand. Why would he send you rabbits when he can afford to send something much more valuable?”

  The bleeding-heart flower. He’d kept the one she’d used to demonstrate the story, so it meant something to him.

  She took the other rabbit out and held it close, its frantic heartbeat pulsing against her finger. How darling. “We don’t know for certain that it was Lucian who sent them,” she said firmly, ignoring the sudden leap of her pulse.

  Setting the crate on the floor, Jane took turns petting the animals, whose fur was damp from their journey in the rain. “They are so precious! What will we name them?”

  They spent the next half hour debating names and where they were supposed to put them. When they heard boots thump against the porch, they stilled. Looked at each other.

  “You get it, Megan,” Jane urged, eyes wide.

  Handing her rabbit off to Jane, Megan wiped her palms against her skirt and, sucking in a breath, opened the door. It wasn’t Lucian. Swallowing her disappointment, she greeted fifteen-year-old Jimmy.

  “I have another package for you, Miss Megan.” Huddling beneath his slicker, he thrust a rectangular-shaped box at her. Then he dashed back out into the rain before she could question him. Her sisters crowded around the table where she placed the box. She carefully lifted the lid. Inside lay a pair of elegant, beaded ivory satin shoes lined with ivory kid and possessed of shapely heels.

  “These are exquisite, Megan, and easily paired with a wedding gown.” Nicole returned her rabbit to the crate so that she could admire the shoes.

  Jittery with nerves, Megan explained with a growing sense of wonder, “Lucian is following the pattern of the bleeding-heart legend. I told him about it one afternoon when we were walking through the woods. He actually kept the parts of the flower.”

  “How romantic,” Jane said with a sigh.

  Megan couldn’t speak. What could be his purpose? He’d been resolute in his determination to leave.

  When Jimmy arrived the third time, she caught his arm. “Who sent you, Jimmy?”

  “The fancy man from New Orleans.”

  “Mr. Beaumont?”

  “Yep, that’s the one.”

  “Can you tell me where he is now?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “He left.”

  Megan stared. It couldn’t be. “He left town? Are you certain?”

  Unaware of her distress, he nodded matter-of-factly and waited for her to release him. “Th-thank you, Jimmy. You may go.”

  She turned back to find her sisters looking at her with sympathy.

  “I—I don’t understand.” She spoke through her tears. Was this simply an extravagant way to say goodbye?

  Utter devastation washed over her. He was well and truly gone. For good.

  Needing immediate escape, she tossed the box on a nearby chair and grabbed her shawl. “I’ve got to go.”

  “You’ll be soaked through within the space of a minute!” Jane called as she stepped out onto the porch.

  “Don’t worry,” she said over her shoulder, barely able to form words. “I won’t be gone long.” That wasn’t a promise, just a hopeful saying to allay her sister’s worries. In truth, she wanted to keep going, to go somewhere new and strange and devoid of memories.

  “But—”

  Ignoring her, Megan hurried down the steps and raced for the woods, unmindful of the raindrops pelting her. Jane was right. It didn’t take long for her to be soaked through, her hair a sodden mass on her shoulders. Entering the lush green woods, she slowed to a fast walk. The onslaught wasn’t as steady here, the canopy overhead acting as a makeshift shelter.

  She walked and walked for what seemed an eternity. Walked until her feet ached, the insides of her boots rubbing blisters on her toes. Walked until she was shivering. Spying a hollowed-out log, she sank down, huddled beneath her damp shawl and stared about at the woods she suddenly didn’t recognize.

  Did she care that she might be lost? No.

  Did she care that she might have to spend the night out here? Not in the least.

  It didn’t matter that she’d skipped breakfast and that she didn’t have her weapon with her. Nothing mattered, really, except that she was miserable. Soon, very soon, she was going to have to try to find her way back, to be responsible, but for just a little while, she would allow herself to grieve the loss of her one and only love.

  * * *

  “He did what?” Lucian stared at Jane and Nicole in dismay. “Why?”

  “Jimmy told her that you left town, and she got upset. She tore off into the woods and hasn’t returned,” Jane repeated, wringing her hands.

  Lucian pushed down his irritation at the lad. He had more important things to worry about...like finding Megan and admitting he’d been wrong. “How long has she been gone?”

  “Over an hour.” Nicole chewed on a fingernail, something he’d never seen her do.

  The girls must be beside themselves with worry. He was beginning to worry, too. Running off in the midst of a rainstorm wasn’t like Megan. But she’d been upset. Because of him.

  “I’ll find her,” he promised, unable to accept any other outcome. She knew these woods like the back of her hand, and she was smart and capable. Lord, help me, he prayed, believing with all his heart that God cared. That He was listening. Please lead me to her.

  He’d gone about this all wrong. By sending the gifts, he’d tried to be romantic, something he knew was important to her. He should’ve come here first thing and simply talked to her.

  Roaming the woods, he searched for signs that someone had recently passed through. He called her name, listening for some sort of response besides the constant, dripping rain. When he at last spotted her hunched on a log, wet and pale and miserable, his fears melted away. Relief weakened his knees. Thank You, God.

  “Megan.”

  Startled, she whipped her head up. Stark pain twisted her features. Pain he had caused her. Muttering in French, Lucian strode over to her, crouching at her knees so that he could look her squarely in the eyes.

  “Je suis désolé, mon chou. I’m so sorry.”

  * * *

  Megan blinked once. Twice. Lucian was really here. He’d found her somehow.

  “I thought you left,” she whispered. “Jimmy told me you left.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “He was mistaken.”

  He looked upset. Dashingly handsome, as well, his wet hair appearing nearly black, slicked back from his forehead. She had to bury her nails in her palms to keep from lifting a hand to his dear, lovely, austere face.

  “I went about t
his all wrong.” He sighed and shook his head.

  Desperate for answers, aching to launch herself into his arms, she said, “What’s going on, Lucian? Why did you send those gifts?”

  “That was my sorry attempt at romance,” he said grimacing, then frowned as a shudder racked her body. Standing, he shrugged out of his black slicker and wrapped it about her shoulders, its warmth enveloping her. Then he sat close beside her, angling his body so that he could look her full in the face.

  “I’m not a hero, Megan. I’m not a prince or a knight or a musketeer. I’m no Mr. Darcy or Mr. Knightley or any of Jane Austen’s other leading men. I’m just a normal man.” His obsidian eyes intense, his gaze lovingly caressed her face. “A man who loves you.”

  Megan didn’t dare breathe or move for fear this was just a dream or a figment of her imagination. Surely this wasn’t real. Lucian loved her?

  “You’re wrong, you know.” She lifted a shaky hand and pressed it against his hard chest, directly over his heart. At the intimate touch, he sucked in a sharp breath. “You are a hero. You’re a man of such deep feeling, Lucian. You possess a courageous yet tender heart. The people closest to you, the ones you should’ve been able to count on, betrayed you and yet despite all that, you opened yourself up enough to trust me. To care for Sarah and the other children. You forgave your mother her deception and allowed yourself to grieve her passing, a difficult, painful thing. A strong man is a man who faces his fears head-on. That’s what makes a man a hero.”

  Ever so gently cupping her cheek, he said wonderingly, “I don’t deserve your sweet words. None of that would’ve came about without you, my love.”

  Giddy with joy, she watched as he reached into his pocket and produced a flat, velvet box, held it aloft on his outstretched palm. “I have one final gift for you.”

  Her stomach flip-flopped. “You do?” She looked at the box for long moments before lifting her gaze to his face.

  “Aren’t you curious what it is?” he prompted with an endearing smile.

  Heart pounding, she took the box from him, fingers fumbling on the lid. At last she was able to open it. There, nestled in the velvet folds, lay a key.

  “It’s the key to Charles’s house.”

  Lifting her chin, he gazed at her with tender devotion. “I would like for it to be our house. Yours and mine together. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  “Oh, Lucian, I—I want that more than anything else, but...what about your resolve to marry for duty?”

  Cradling her face in his hands, he declared, “I only determined to marry for duty because I was afraid to be hurt again, afraid of hurting someone like my father hurt my mother. I admit, I’m still afraid. But my love for you is stronger than my fear. With God’s help, I can be a good husband to you.”

  She covered his hands, smiled at him with all the love she felt for him shining on her face. “You are the only husband I want.”

  His eyes lit with happiness. “So you’ll marry me?”

  “Yes!” She laughed out loud, joy unlike she’d ever known filling her heart until she thought it might burst. “Most definitely.”

  He brought his mouth tantalizingly close. “Soon?”

  “As soon as possible,” she murmured, sliding her hands up to lock behind his neck.

  He kissed her then, a dazzling kiss full of promise. He held nothing back, infusing all the love and affection he felt for her into the embrace. Her despair of minutes ago had vanished, replaced with a heady sense of rightness, of completeness, that only being with Lucian could inspire. This was where she belonged. With him. Her love. Her hero.

  Epilogue

  Three weeks later

  July 1881

  “My dear, you look radiant.”

  Megan’s mother, Alice, reached up to tuck a pink rose more firmly into her curls, then stepped back to observe the dress for the umpteenth time. Nicole had offered her the ivory silk confection she’d worn to the poetry recital as a wedding present. With its seed pearls adorning the scooped neck, lace overlay about the skirt and gold-and-silver stitching along the hem, it was a perfect choice for a wedding dress. Instead of the sparkly diamond pins she’d worn last time, Megan had decided to wear roses in her curls.

  Tears glistened in her mother’s eyes.

  “Don’t cry, Mama,” Megan admonished with a smile, “or else I will, too, and the last thing I want is to greet my groom with splotchy skin and puffy eyes.”

  Alice glanced about the spacious upstairs bedroom. “It was kind of Lucian to offer the house for you and your sisters to get ready.”

  “Thoughtfulness is just one of his many endearing qualities.”

  Pausing in her fussing, she cocked her head to study her. “You’ve always been a happy girl, but now that he’s come into your life, you seem...oh, I don’t know the right word. Settled, maybe? At peace? Before, there was a restless gleam in your eye. That’s gone now.”

  Megan swallowed back a tide of emotion. It was true. With Lucian in her life, she felt complete. “You do approve, don’t you, Mama?”

  “From what I’ve seen and heard, Lucian appears to be a kind and decent man. And it’s plain to see he’s besotted with you. I believe the two of you are a good match.” She shook her head in consternation. “Just once I’d like to witness one of my daughters falling in love. First Juliana meets her true love while on the run from outlaws and comes home already married. And while I’m away attending the birth of my first grandchild, you fall for a stranger. I’m not leaving home again until your sisters are all settled.”

  Megan’s chuckle was interrupted by a succinct knock before the door swung wide to admit Nicole—stunning in blue, her raven curls piled on top of her head in an elegant arrangement—and the twins, lovely in matching shades of seafoam-green that enhanced their auburn tresses.

  Her only regret on this, her most special of days, was that Juliana couldn’t be here. Evan had been firm in insisting the journey would be too risky for his wife and baby James. Megan understood. Of course her nephew’s well-being was paramount. The fact that she and Lucian would be traveling there in just two days’ time softened her disappointment. She could hardly wait to hold James and introduce Lucian to her sister and brother-in-law.

  Nicole handed Megan her bouquet. “The ceremony starts in fifteen minutes. We need to head over to the church now if you don’t want Lucian to think you’ve changed your mind.”

  Jessica gave her a quick hug. “Lucian is going to swoon when he sees you, sis. I’ve never seen you look more beautiful.”

  “I don’t think grooms swoon.” Jane frowned at her twin.

  They debated and teased all the way to the church. Megan found it difficult to concentrate on their words, her mind on Lucian. Was he as anxious as she was? The minutes were passing in a blur, and she wished she could make time slow, wanted to savor every moment. In just a little while, she would walk out of this church a married woman.

  In the alcove, Owen was waiting with a fully recovered Sarah, who’d eagerly agreed to be Megan’s flower girl. Adorable in a cream confection created by Nicole, her fine hair had been braided and twisted into a neat circle about her crown. At the sight of Megan in her wedding dress, her eyes widened. Then, seeing Megan’s reassuring smile, she smiled back.

  The music started, and everyone hustled into place.

  Before she knew it, Uncle Sam was taking her arm and guiding her through the inner doors. The faces on either side of the aisle failed to register, her focus all on Lucian, the man of her dreams, elegantly handsome in his black formal attire, his brown hair tousled like always. She smiled then, happy he hadn’t attempted
to tame it.

  He returned her smile, an action that transformed his features and made her heart kick in recognition. She’d become quite familiar with that dazzling smile over the course of the past three weeks. That and his husky laughter. And his gentle touch. They’d spent nearly every day together, taking long walks and plotting their future.

  Now she was here, about to pledge herself to him for a lifetime.

  He was gazing at her with awe, as if finding it hard to believe she was his, and an eagerness that matched her own. When she at last reached his side, he took her hands in his, his thumbs gently stroking in a soothing gesture. They spoke their vows with reverence, and when Reverend Monroe announced them husband and wife, Lucian grinned, leaned over and kissed her soundly. Their guests laughed and clapped. And then she and her husband were hurrying down the aisle to a chorus of well-wishes.

  He paused on the steps to lean close, a happy grin playing about his lips. “There’s no changing your mind now, Mrs. Beaumont. You’re mine from this day forward.”

  “As if I’d ever dream of such a thing, Mr. Beaumont.” She splayed a hand on his chest. “I’m perfectly happy with my choice.”

  Chuckling, he kissed her briefly before they were swept up in the crowd as everyone made their way to their house for the reception. Mrs. Calhoun had joined forces with Alice, Aunt Mary, Kate, Jane and Jessica to produce a brunch worthy of royalty with succulent meats, egg dishes, hearty breads, bowls of fresh fruit and an astonishing array of desserts. Fresh-cut flowers, courtesy of Fred, adorned every room, scenting the air with sweet summertime.

  By the time the gifts had been opened and all of the guests besides family had departed, Megan was eager for time alone with her new husband. Catching her gaze from across the parlor, he set down his cup and, with a parting word to Josh and Uncle Sam, strode purposefully towards her. His dark gaze was so full of love it made her want to weep. All of his doubts had been swept away, his misgivings given to God, and now his heart was fully hers for safekeeping.