Retrieving a scoop from a drawer, she quickly delivered the crock to the table with a proud lift of her chin. “The perfect treat to celebrate a courtship! And, I’ll have you know, made with special poppy seeds all the way from Spain, sent by Horace’s missionary friend.” Her brow wrinkled the slightest bit. “Of course, I almost ruined it when I dropped the whole silly bottle into the mix, but I tasted it, and it really has a lovely little crunch to it, so I hope you like it too.” Her face broke into a bright smile that chased all the worry lines away. “So tell me, Finn,” she asked as she plopped a large spoonful of ice cream onto his cake, “are you going to ask Libby’s father for permission to court her?”
“Yes—”
“No!” Libby quickly interrupted, smiling her thanks when Mrs. Poppy topped her cake with ice cream. “If it’s all the same to you and the pastor, Mrs. Poppy, we’d rather keep it quiet for a while for a number of reasons.”
“What?” Finn almost choked on the ice cream he’d just shoveled in, lunging for his tea when he began to hack.
“As you know, my father has never been overly”—she sent Finn a feeble smile—“fond of Finn, so I think it’s best if we just lay low for a while—”
“Lay low?” Finn’s jaw practically came unhinged. “Now look here, Libby, there’s no way I’m going to court you behind your father’s back—”
“It’s just for a while, Finn,” Libby pleaded, “till I can ease him in slowly that you and I have fallen in love. Besides, you said it yourself—it will give Jo Beth time to adjust and you time to pay off your loan.”
Finn began to grind his jaw, pretty sure Libby was right, but not one bit happy about it. When he’d been angry with her, waiting had seemed like a viable option, but now that he knew he wanted to marry her and she wanted to marry him, he just wanted to get on with their lives and the loan be hung. “We tell your father and everyone else by August 1st then.”
Libby was shaking her head before he’d uttered his final word. “I really think we need to wait longer, Finn, at least three months.”
He bounded up. “Three months! Confound it, Libby, I love you, and I don’t want to wait.”
She rose and took his hands in hers, eyes gentle. “And I love you, too, but it will give you more time to accomplish all we need to do—prepare my father for the news, ease Jo Beth’s heartache, pay off your loan …” She lifted on tiptoe to brush a soft kiss to his cheek. “Ready your cabin for a wife …” Her eyes sparkled with promise and tease. “Plus more time to see if you and I are a ‘good fit.’”
It took everything in him not to haul her back into his arms and prove the fit was plum perfect. Unleashing a weary sigh, he kissed her nose instead. “All right, Miss O’Shea—you win.” He arched a brow. “This round, that is. But ready or not, come October 1st, I plan to court you true and proper in front of God and everybody, understood?”
“Yessss, Mr. McPain,” Libby said in a sing-song tone while she sat back down to sample her ice cream.
Finn tweaked the back of her neck, prompting a giggle from her lips as he joined her. “I wouldn’t be making too much fun of that name, darlin’, because if I have my way, you’ll be wearing it for a long time to come.”
“Oh, I just love weddings!” Mrs. Poppy clapped her hands, her manner almost giddy. Picking her spoon back up she sent Finn a wink, obviously ready to begin the celebration with ice cream and cake. “And three months may seem like a lifetime now, but you mark my words, young man,” she said with a wiggle of brows, “I have a feeling it will go by in a blink.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Blink. Liberty squinted through sleepy eyes, near blinded by the sunshine washing her bedroom with its glorious light. Mmm … what a wonderful dream, she thought with a lazy stretch in her bed, eyelids sinking closed as memories of Finn’s kisses heated her body more than the shaft of daylight warming her skin.
It was official—Finn wanted to court her, and although it would be her father’s worst nightmare—which he’d surely fight till the end—for Liberty, it was a life-long dream come true.
Mrs. Griffin McShane.
A dreamy sigh wisped across her lips as she replayed last night at the Poppys’. Yes, they had some issues to work out, certainly, but this was the man she had pined for since the age of twelve, and Liberty had never been surer of anything in her life.
Breathing in the crisp morning air, she reveled in the heady scent of leather and lime as more memories fluttered her stomach. Besides, keeping their relationship secret for three months would be fun, she’d argued last night, as long as they could still meet to wrap up festival business and propose a plan for next year. A slow smile wended its way across her lips as she thought of the possibilities. Innocent meetings that would benefit both the city and them, affording valuable time to iron out any kinks in their relationship. With another languid stretch, she turned on her side.
After all—what could possibly go wrong?
A strong arm looped her waist, dragging her close. “Mmm … mornin’, darlin’.”
Libby froze before she screamed and vaulted from the bed, body shaking while she snatched the sheet off of Finn McShane. “Sweet m-mother of mercy,” she rasped, body woozy and mind even worse, “what are you doing here?”
Bleary-eyed beneath a haphazard quilt, Finn lumbered up with a hand to his head. “What the—” Rubbing his eyes, he blinked up at Libby, groggy gaze spanning wide at her state of undress. His face leached as pale as the sheet she clutched to her chest. “Blue blistering blazes … it’s not a dream!” he whispered in a hoarse morning voice as rough as the dark stubble shadowing his jaw. His Adam’s apple ducked hard while his gaze wandered from her disheveled hair spilling over bare shoulders down to her bare legs and back up, his grin growing along with the whites of his eyes.
Libby faltered back, fingers quivering as she clutched the sheet around her body. Her gaze darted frantically around the room. “And this isn’t my room—it must be the Poppys’ guest room, so what on earth happened, Finn?” Her throat convulsed as she stared, cheeks on fire while she wagged a trembling finger between them. “Oh, sweet mother of mercy, we didn’t … did we?”
Finn lumbered up to sag against the headboard, muscled chest bare and eyes closed while he kneaded the bridge of his nose. “Well, it sure seems like we did in my dream, darlin’”—he lowered his fingers to stare at his left hand where a wedding band gleamed bright in the morning sun. Glancing up, he managed a wince of a smile—“so maybe so?”
Her hands flew to her mouth in horror, belly quivering at the thought she’d just spent the night with Finn McShane. “Holy heavenly host—what are we going to do?”
He scooted to the edge of the bed with a sheepish smile, wrapping the quilt around his middle before tugging her to sit on his lap. “Well, for starters,” he whispered, voice husky while he lifted her hand to graze the wedding band on her finger, “I’m going to kiss my wife.” And before Liberty could utter a single word, he disarmed her with a playful tug of her lip while slowly easing her back on the bed, devouring her with a kiss that swirled a dangerous heat in her middle. “Great day in the morning, but I love you Mrs. Liberty Margaret McShane, and Mrs. Poppy was right—that three months did go by in a blink.”
Liberty gaped, confusion fluttering her lashes as much as Finn’s kiss fluttered her stomach. “But … but … I don’t understand—how did this happen?”
Chuckling, he settled back against the headboard again, hooking her close to his side while he feathered the strands of her hair with his fingers. “Not exactly sure, Libs, but I have a sneakin’ suspicion an excessive amount of poppy seeds may have been involved.”
Liberty spun around to face him, eyes wide. “Oh my goodness, that’s it! I remember reading an article at Vassar once, about certain poppies that are harvested for opium, and I think it said poppy seeds from Spain were particularly powerful.”
“Which is why I dreamed Pastor Poppy married us last night, darlin’.” The edge
of his lips crooked while he lightly traced the line of her bare shoulder with his fingers. “No wonder Mrs. Poppy wins the baking contest every year.” His smile faded to soft as he nuzzled her mouth. “Are you sorry, Libs?” he whispered, skimming her jaw to gently suckle the soft flesh of her ear.
A tiny moan escaped as her eyelids drifted closed, the prospect of being Finn’s wife suddenly feeling so right. Memories of his tenderness last night, his kisses, his lovemaking purled through her brain, potent and strong, and her breathing shallowed. She opened her eyes to cup his bristled cheek. “No, Finn, I’m not. Somehow I feel … well, like I’ve been set free, you know? As if I’m ready to embark on a new adventure where I can be the woman I’ve always dreamed I could be.”
A twinkle lit in his eyes as he teased her lip with another tug of his teeth. “My wife?”
“Finn McShane!” She attempted to wrestle him away, but he only laughed, pinning her to the bed with a perilous gleam in his eyes. “But the smartest, prettiest, feistiest wife any man ever had.” He lowered to kiss her long and slow before rolling to his side and pulling her along. Buffing her arm, he pressed a kiss to her hair. “The truth is that I feel freer too, Libs, like all this time I’ve just been waiting for my life to start—with you.”
Tap-Tap-Tap. “Uh … Libby darling, Finn …” Mrs. Poppy’s loud whisper was laced with concern. “It seems we have a slight problem …”
Finn grinned as he buried his lips in her neck. “Not from where I’m lying,” he said softly, drawing her body flush with his.
“Me either …” Libby’s voice was breathless, her tummy tumbling along with her heart.
“Liberty Margaret O’Shea—you come down here this instant!”
Libby jolted straight up in the bed, the sound of her father’s shout causing her stomach to swoop in a whole ’nother way. “Uh-oh.” She gulped, voice shaky. “Uh, please tell Papa we’ll be right down, Mrs. Poppy.”
“Certainly, dear.”
“Oh, and ma’am?” Finn called with a grin, giving Libby a wink. “Dish him up some of that poppy-seed ice cream with a big ol’ piece of your famous cake, if you will, along with a nice, big cup of your tea.” He eased Libby over on her back with a wicked smile. “Because I have something to say to my wife first”—his voice lowered to husky as he skimmed her throat with his mouth—“and do.”
Libby’s contented sigh met his when he kissed his way back up to capture her lips with his own. “Happy Independence Day, Mrs. McShane,” he whispered against her skin, “because we’re finally free to start our life together. Although I’m pretty sure the fireworks display today won’t compare to those we saw last night.”
Libby’s cheeks warmed along with her body. “That was yesterday, Mr. McShane,” she said with a dreamy smile, “today is the 5th of July.”
Finn deposited a kiss to her nose, then headed south to nuzzle the curve of her neck. “That may be true, darlin’,” he said with a chuckle, feathering the length of her collarbone with his mouth before lifting his head to give her a wink. “But something tells me loud and clear, Libby McShane”—he gently grazed her lips before delving in deeper—“the fireworks are just beginning.”
A Note to My Readers
Thank you so very much for reading Liberty and Finn’s story, For Love of Liberty—I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, good news! You’ll be able to catch up with them in my upcoming historical Western series, Silver Lining Ranch, book one of which I hope to release in the summer of 2018.
And more good news! The first chapter of book one, Love’s Silver Lining, can be found on the next page, so I hope it whets your appetite for this fun Western series. As usual, this series will feature my signature two-tiered love story with an older Liberty and Finn along with a brand-new couple—spunky suffragette Maggie Mulaney and Finn’s nephew, Blaze Donovan. Here’s the jacket blurb, which not only fits for this prequel novel, but actually fits for both Liberty and Finn and Maggie and Blaze in Love’s Silver Lining:
A Match Made in Heaven?
Or Someplace a Whole Lot Warmer?
She’s stubborn, educated, and looking to give women the vote.
He’s bullheaded, successful, and looking to give her a piece of his mind.
But when things heat up, they may just give each other a piece of their hearts.
And Now, a Sneak Peek at
Book 1 in the
Silver Lining Ranch Series …
LOVE’S SILVER LINING
A threefold cord is not quickly broken.
—Ecclesiastes 4:9-12
CHAPTER ONE
Virginia City, Nevada, May 1885
Sweet chorus of angels—pinch me! Palms to the windowsill, twenty-two-year-old Maggie Mullaney leaned out the back window of St. Mary Louise Hospital’s hallway, drinking in the heady scent of freedom and pine. For the first time since she and Aunt Liberty had fled New York—and the sham marriage arranged by her stepfather—Maggie felt her ribcage expand in a sense of relief as wide and welcoming as the Sierra Nevada Mountains.
Breathing in the crisp, clean air of the mountain range that towered over Virginia City, she felt almost giddy, a sense of anticipation bubbling through her like the brook that gurgled below. Imagine! To practice nursing in one of the most renowned medical facilities in the country. Unleashing a contented sigh, she scanned the cloud-dappled sky with a heart of thanksgiving and a truly grateful smile. Thank you, Lord, that I’ll be serving the needs of mankind—her smile crooked off-center—instead of the needs of only one man!
“Psst … ma’am … uh, I could sure use your help.”
A gasp caught in Maggie’s throat as she lurched back inside the window, almost bumping her head at the sight of a bandaged cowboy peeking out of the stairwell, gaping her jaw. And not just any cowboy.
A near-naked bandaged cowboy.
She swallowed hard, eyes circled in shock as she scanned from a well-worn Stetson down a sculpted torso swathed only in gauze.
A very muscular, handsome, near-naked bandaged cowboy.
Too stunned to avert her eyes, she was mortified to discover they had a mind of their own as they trailed past a sheet awkwardly wrapped around slim hips, the bunched material revealing muscular legs attached to mammoth bare feet. Near faint, she jerked her gaze back up to a crooked smile that literally stuttered and stopped her pulse.
Her cheeks pulsed with heat, and she immediately slapped a hand to her eyes, quite certain that none of the patients she’d treated at the Bellvue School of Nursing ever looked like the specimen before her.
“Uh, I realize this is a shock, ma’am …” his low voice began, the barest hint of a smile lending a husky tease to his tone.
Shock? Maggie plastered another hand to her face, unable to dispel the image of brawn now branded in her brain. For the love of Florence Nightingale, this went well beyond shock to downright indecent!
“But I’d be much obliged if you’d retrieve my clothes, boots, and holster from the nurses’ station, so I can go home, ma’am, avoiding scaring anymore unsuspecting young ladies such as yourself.”
Maggie squeezed her eyelids shut behind her hands, pretty sure one “unsuspecting young lady” was already scarred for life.
“Uh … miss?”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Maggie inched a finger up to peek through her hand, mentally berating herself for allowing this man to unnerve her. For pity’s sake, he was a patient and this was a hospital, and for the love of all that was compassionate and kind, she was a nurse. Or would be as soon as Sister Frederica finished her meeting with the staff and called her in for an interview.
He gave a sharp nod toward the nurses’ station down the hall, and the action tumbled several sun-streaked curls onto his forehead while two deep dimples perfectly framed a little-boy grin. “Sister Fred tucked ’em under the counter for safekeeping, but as I’m sure you can understand, I’m a mite embarrassed to parade down the hall like this …” Sapphire-blue eyes held her captive, their playful twi
nkle all but sapping the strength from her limbs. His easy smile coaxed, joining forces with a husky whisper that seemed to slide over her like melted butter. “So if you wouldn’t mind, pretty lady, I’d be forever in your debt …”
Maggie froze. Pretty lady? A cold chill shivered her spine while warning bells pealed wildly in her head, the sound of those two words severing the spell of the man before her faster than a physician’s scalpel. The last person who had called her that had been her so-called fiancé, a society playboy with an insatiable eye for the ladies. A rogue she couldn’t trust. Her eyes narrowed.
Not unlike the handsome, half-naked bandaged cowboy smiling at her right now.
With a forced square of shoulders, Maggie lifted her chin to focus only on the man’s face, which was difficult enough given a perfectly chiseled jaw that sported a dangerous shadow of bristle. Quivering hands clasped at her waist, she managed a strained smile. “Why, I’ll be happy to fetch your things, Mr. ….”
“Donovan—Blaze Donovan, ma’am,” he said with a flash of beautiful teeth that nearly buckled her at the knees. The blue eyes sheathed halfway to leisurely study her, lingering on her lips long enough to parch any moisture in her throat. “And you are …?”
“M-Maggie … uh, Mullaney,” she stuttered, desperate to get this man clothed and as far away from her as he could possibly get. She struggled to project a professional air, head tipped in assessment. “I assume you are a patient, Mr. Donovan, who has yet to be discharged?”
“No, I’ve been discharged,” he said quickly, a flare of panic in those deadly blue eyes that caused her lips to twitch in a near smile. “Sister Fred said I could go home, but she has most of the nurses in a meeting right now, so I guess they plum forgot to bring me my things.”
For Love of Liberty (Silver Lining Ranch Series Book 1) Page 16
