Accidental Sweetheart

by Lisa Bingham

  As soon as Iona took her place, Willow stepped into the doorway. Her red hair blazed in the sunlight, and her slight body had been accented to perfection in a pale green gown. Gideon saw the way that her gaze automatically skipped to Charles and a secret smile played over her lips. Then, she scanned the room, finding Adam, who was being bounced on Bottoms’s knee, and Eva, who looked over Batchwell’s shoulder and squealed in her mother’s direction.

  Willow had nearly reached the end of the aisle when Sumner appeared. She’d abandoned the sober, tailored clothing that she normally wore as her doctor garb for a pale pink gown. Despite the careful drape of an overskirt, the protrusion of her stomach was evident. Gideon saw the way Jonah straightened in pride at the sight of his wife, and Sumner, normally so cool and collected, blushed when her husband eyed her with open adoration.

  Gideon lifted a finger to his tie, trying to loosen it, knowing that Lydia had chosen only three matrons of honor. He honestly didn’t know why his knees trembled and his heart seemed to knock against his ribs. He wasn’t nervous to begin his life with Lydia. He was more than ready for them to be together.

  Then she stepped into view, a glorious vision in white. She wore a gown that could have stepped from the fashion pages. One with an enormous bustled skirt, a wasp waist, and willowy lines outlined with tiny pleated ruffles and sparkling beadwork. He knew that the women who’d remained in the valley had all shared the task of making the elaborate gown as a gift to their dear friend. Nevertheless, what caught and held his attention was the face beneath the gossamer veil.

  Lydia.

  His bride.

  As soon as she met his gaze, she smiled—and in that instant, everyone else seemed to disappear. In her expression, he could see an echo of his own chaotic emotions—nervousness, eagerness, and an overwhelming certainty that nothing would ever feel as right as this moment together.

  By the time she joined him at the end of the aisle, the last of his nerves had been chased away by the warmth of her gaze. His fingers were steady as he took her hand, and Charles began to speak.

  As he recited his vows, Gideon tried to concentrate on each word, each gesture, each expression. He wanted to imprint this moment in his mind with such clarity that he would be able to relive memories any time he needed to remember what was truly important in life. He would focus on this day when wartime memories threatened to consume him, or when the pressures of work hung heavy on his shoulders. This would become his touchstone for the rest of his life—the delicate warmth of her fingers in his, the sweet tones of her voice, the joy radiating from her soul until she seemed to glow from within.

  “You may now kiss your bride.”

  Gideon’s heart thumped in his chest as he lifted Lydia’s veil. With that final barrier removed, he could see her so clearly that his heart ached with happiness.

  “I love you, Lydia,” he murmured, for her ears alone.

  “And I love you, Gideon.”

  Then he kissed her, softly, sweetly.

  At long last, he took her hand, leading her out into the sunshine amid a shower of confetti, a crowd of well-wishers, and the sweet sound of children’s laughter floating through the mountain air. They paused on the top step for a photograph taken by Mr. Batchwell himself and his new box camera.

  As they waited for the bridal party to take their places, Gideon gazed down at his companion, and she, sensing his regard, looked up. For an instant, she took his breath away, and he could scarcely credit the joy and adoration that shone from her eyes.

  Lydia Angelica Tomlinson, a woman he’d once thought would be trouble with a capital T.

  Little had he known she would become so much more.

  His sweetheart.

  His bride.

  His everything.

  * * * * *

  If you loved this sweet historical romance,

  pick up the first two books

  from author Lisa Bingham’s miniseries

  THE BACHELORS OF ASPEN VALLEY

  ACCIDENTAL COURTSHIP

  ACCIDENTAL FAMILY

  Available now from Love Inspired Historical!

  Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com

  Keep reading for an excerpt from LAST CHANCE WIFE by Janette Foreman.

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  Dear Reader,

  I hope that you enjoyed Lydia’s and Gideon’s story, Accidental Sweetheart. This is the third and final book in the Bachelors of Aspen Valley series, and I wanted to make sure that I finished everything with a bang! To my delight, much like the characters themselves, as soon as I started writing, Lydia and Gideon hijacked the plot and decided to have a rollicking good time. In addition, characters from the first two books, Accidental Courtship and Accidental Family, decided to help out. I had so much fun bringing everyone together for one last happy ending.

  I love to hear from my readers, so if you’d like to get in touch, you can reach me at my website, www.lisabinghamauthor.com, or through my social media sites, www.Facebook.com/lisabinghamauthor, and Twitter @lbinghamauthor.

  All my best to you,

  Lisa

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  Last Chance Wife

  by Janette Foreman

  Chapter One

  Deadwood, Dakota Territory

  September 1878

  “In case of trouble, call upon Mr. Ewan Burke at the Golden Star Mine in Deadwood.”

  Clutching the crinkled note Aunt Mildred had given her, Winifred Sattler raised her gaze to the town in which she’d found herself stranded. Dust curled up as the stagecoach drove away, tinting the air with a dirty dose of failure that caked her lungs. Surely that was what stung her eyes and clouded her vision.

  The dust. Not the failure.

  Stuffing the note back into her pocket, Winifred wove on foot up the cramped street through a tangle of men, vegetable carts, wagons and horses. Her glance bounced between the wooden buildings and the gaping holes in the road, then scaled the hills on either side of the narrow gulch where the town rested. A slight breeze made the mining town stink of dirt, unlike the sweet aroma of pine that permeated the canyon she had ridden through to get here, and the metallic pounding of stamp mills had begun to give her a headache.

  But Winifred would not lose hope. She couldn’t. Sure, she’d spent the last of her dowry traveling from Denver to Spearfish to marry Mr. Ansell. Then her remaining cash had barely covered the fifteen-
mile trip to Deadwood when the mail-order match had turned disastrous.

  All she needed now was money to get home. Then she could eat a little humble pie before Uncle Wilbur and devise a new plan. Place new mail-order bride advertisements in the newspapers. Send out more letters to the prospects she would gain. Pray the dear old man hadn’t been serious about marrying her off to one of his colleagues if she—again—returned unmarried.

  At least this time the mail-order disaster was entirely not her fault.

  As she focused ahead, a sign for the Golden Star Mine caught her attention—barely. Small and brown, it blended with its natural surroundings. Winifred approached the tall wooden building that scaled the hillside in stair-step fashion and knocked on the door. The entrance certainly didn’t feel inviting. How much prettier it would be with flowers or a hedge. Did the slat siding need to be a weathered, natural brown? Wouldn’t it be nicer painted white?

  Lost in her design ideas, she almost didn’t hear the door open.

  “Ma’am, may I help you?” A man stared down at her, blocking the entrance. His suit seemed a bit threadbare, though meticulously pressed. Sandy blond hair was combed up off his forehead—which pinched at the sight of her—and gray eyes narrowed in suspicion. “The shop is closed for the night. Might be closed for the rest of the week.”

  She dug for the note in her pocket. “Are you Mr. Burke?”

  His forehead wrinkled further. “Yes...”

  Winifred released her breath. “Oh, good. I’m Winifred Sattler. Wilbur Dawson’s niece? Nice to meet you.” She wedged her way inside before he could protest against it.

  She found herself in a quaint, cozy store lit by a lantern on the corner counter. Shelves of merchandise lined the walls, the entire space smaller than Aunt and Uncle’s airy sitting room. Except she had thought this to be a gold mine. Why had the man attached a store?

  When Winifred turned to Mr. Burke, who didn’t appear much older than she, she noted the confidence in his stance, the square rigidity of his shoulders. Strong. Masculine. He crossed his arms and waited for her explanation, so she hastened to give one. “I apologize for my abrupt visit, but my aunt gave me your name in case I ran into trouble, and I must say, I have certainly run into trouble. You would not believe—”

  “Hold on.” Mr. Burke sliced through her words. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”

  “Winifred Sattler, sir.” She stood straighter, hoping she didn’t look too frazzled after riding the coach so long. She’d left Denver over a week ago, roomed in Deadwood last night, and traveled to Spearfish this morning...only to turn around and come back to Deadwood tonight when prospects in Spearfish turned sour. If Mr. Burke didn’t help her, what options would she have? “I’m Wilbur Dawson’s niece.”

  His eyes narrowed further as he looked her over.

  She moved one polished black boot against the other, touched her bonnet lined with forget-me-nots. “Lovely place you have here.”

  Mr. Burke frowned deeper. “Wilbur Dawson...from Denver?”

  “Yes. He works closely with your father, Peter Burke. At least that’s my understanding.”

  “Miss Dawson—”

  “Sattler.”

  “Miss Sattler, please understand my confusion.” The poor man obviously grappled to keep up. “I was not expecting you. What sort of trouble are you in?”

  She opened her mouth to answer, then thought better of it. “I’d rather not say.” Best to figure out her next move before sharing her embarrassing mail-order blunder with a stranger. “I can assure you it’s nothing illegal. I simply found myself in Deadwood without a place to stay or funds with which to seek lodging or get home.” She lifted her face with her brightest smile. “That’s where I hope you’ll come in. Might you have a place for me to spend a few nights? Any place would do, really. Or I can be gone in the morning if you need me to be—”

  “Please.” The man held up his hand, signaling for her to stop. “I do have a place available for a few nights. If you need it.”

  “Oh, I do. I do.” She wanted to clap, to shout to the ceiling in triumph—but decided it might be too much for her benefactor to handle.

  Mr. Burke locked the front door, turned down the lantern, then lit a small candle. Without a word, he led the way down a long hallway, casting shadows along the wall with his flame.

  She followed close, her footsteps light. Removing her bonnet so it hung down her back, she watched the surety with which he carried himself. “So, why will your shop be closed for the week?”

  “My clerk quit this afternoon.”

  Quit? Winifred quickened her steps. “You mean you have a job opening? I’d love to have it. Temporarily, of course.”

  Mr. Burke glanced back at her. “Why would I hire temporary help, Miss Sattler?”

  “To get you through the week, naturally.” She shrugged. “Or longer, if needed.”

  Hopefully her request wasn’t too forceful. A temporary clerk job would help her purchase a stagecoach ticket home. When she’d chosen to accept Mr. Ansell’s romantic—albeit hasty—proposal, she hadn’t gained Uncle’s approval. Only after much discussion had he and Aunt let her go...with the understanding that she would pay her own way. Which, of course, meant finding her own way home, too.

  Mr. Burke seemed to consider her offer. “Unfortunately, there are other factors I must take into account, but I’ll give you my answer in the morning.” He led her to a door and knocked. “Cassandra?”

  The door opened swiftly, revealing a wiry woman whose brown skin glowed in the candlelight. “Yes, Mr. Burke?”

  “This is Miss Winifred Sattler, who is to share your room tonight.” The man motioned for Winifred to step closer. “And this is Cassandra Washington.”

  “But everyone calls me Granna Cass.” With a grandmotherly smile, the woman guided Winifred inside. “Everyone except Ewan. He can’t stand to call people by their nicknames.”

  Winifred glanced back at Mr. Burke, who joined them inside before shutting the door.

  “Thank you for letting me stay here.” Heat blasted Winifred as she entered a kitchen, complete with stove and preparation table. Various cooking tools hung along the walls, and in the back corner, a section had been partitioned off for what appeared to be Granna Cass’s sleeping quarters.

  “Come on in, child.” Leaving Winifred’s side, the woman zipped back to the table, where several small pails sat side by side. “Ewan, help yourself to soup on the stove while I finish the lunch pails. Miss Sattler, fill them with me while I get to know you.”

  Mr. Burke crossed to the stove and ladled soup into a bowl, his movements efficient and sure. Winifred rushed to the woman’s side and followed her lead as she constructed sandwiches and wrapped them in paper. “Pardon me, but did you say lunch?”

  “For the night-shift workers.” Granna Cass set one sandwich into a pail and had a second one half made before Winifred finished her first. “Miss Winnie, tell me your story.”

  “My story?” Winifred couldn’t help but glance at Mr. Burke as she placed a chunk of corned beef between two slices of bread.

  Turning from the stove with his soup, he met her gaze. In the stronger light, his hair had a coppery tint. Hardened lines etched his facial features, like he always had something on his mind and didn’t stop to laugh and joke very often. Such a sad way to live. He seemed so stern, like he couldn’t be bothered with charity work—which had basically become her situation, at this point.

  Her cheeks began to warm. “What do you want to know?”

  The elderly woman chuckled. “Whatever you want to tell me.”

  That wouldn’t be much, then, at least not with Mr. Burke staring at her like that. “I was born in Kansas and moved to Denver with my aunt and uncle when I was six.”

  “Ah, chasing gold?” Granna Cass’s skilled hands moved like lightning. “Ewan’s family works in Colorado
. His brother has a successful gold mine, doesn’t he?”

  Mr. Burke cleared his throat, then sipped his soup, not commenting further.

  Winifred slipped another sandwich into a pail. “My uncle invests in entrepreneurs. We moved to Denver so he could find businesses to help.” Mr. Burke’s gaze narrowed again. Her chest tightened at his obvious disapproval of her. Sure, she’d shown up unannounced tonight, but was that any reason to glare at her so harshly?

  “Miss Winnie, you’d better have some of that soup, too. Not much left. The boys already had their supper.” Granna Cass moved to the large pot perched on the stove.

  “The boys?”

  “The miners.” Mr. Burke’s voice held a guarded edge. “Many of my men eat here during the shift change. It’s a benefit I will not compromise.”

  Winifred blinked as she tried to make sense of his defensive explanation. Did he expect her to disapprove of his offering food to his employees?

  No sooner had she slipped a sandwich into the pail than a commotion like a thundering herd approached the kitchen door.

  “There they are,” said Granna Cass. “Right on time.”

  In quick motion, the kitchen door flew open. Men barreled inside, their boots clomping along the hard floor. Dirt clung to their clothes. Winifred pushed against the wall as they encircled the table like wolves surrounding prey. They plucked their pails from the table with big hands and acknowledged Mr. Burke’s presence with a solemn nod before trudging back out, circling wide rather than getting too close to their employer.

  One man inspected the contents of his pail. “Corned beef again, Granna Cass?”

  “Yes, sir.” The woman shot him a knowing smile, propping a fist on her hip and raising her graying eyebrows. “Just like every day before.”

  The man looked like he wanted to say more, but he glanced at Mr. Burke and seemed to decide against it, then gave Granna Cass a cautious smile and left with the others.