Courting Miss Cartwright: A Sweet Western Historical Romance Novella (Rated PG) (Six Brides for Six Gideons Book 2)

by Kristin Holt

  Rocky pushed Felicity behind his back.

  He snagged Mrs. Abbott’s finger and held on. “This is absurd, ladies. Felicity is a nice person. Unfailingly polite to Temperance.”

  One of them snorted.

  He narrowed his eyes, his temper percolating. “You think illegitimacy is contagious?”

  Jennifer, the quiet redhead who hardly ever spoke in Rocky’s presence glared at him. “I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Gideon.”

  “That right?”

  “Yes, sir. I am. Disappointed.” She swallowed, the movement visible in her slender, white throat. “You call Miss Percival by her Christian name. Overly familiar, indecent, and I’m shocked you’re not more protective of Temperance. Shame on you.”

  “The next time Temperance is lying in the dirt with a pack of she-wolves atop her, I promise I’ll worry.” He set his jaw. Why was he defending Felicity instead of Temperance?

  Because he comprehended Felicity instantly, deeply?

  Why couldn’t he understand Temperance’s take in all this?

  He loved Temperance…didn’t he?

  Of course he loved Temperance! He only sympathized with a kindred spirit.

  One by one, they all raised their chins, glaring at him.

  Fine, let this pack of wolves think they’d cornered the market on disappointment.

  At his back, Felicity stiffened. Feh!—he still held her arm in his grip. He let her go and she immediately moved to his side, facing Temperance’s friends with confidence and certainty.

  A sight to behold with shmutz dusting her cheeks and dress.

  “Mrs. Abbott,” Felicity said, as if he weren’t there, “Miss Celia…” She scanned the women, holding her own. “Your loyalty and devotion to Miss Cartwright is commendable.”

  “You will be on today’s train,” Mrs. Abbott ordered.

  “My father invited me to this town, Mrs. Abbott.” Felicity stood her ground. “I’m staying.”

  Rocky couldn’t help it. His admiration for her doubled.

  Felicity took two long strides toward the boardinghouse before turning, assessing them all once more. “Good day, ladies. Mr. Gideon.”

  She might be done with the she-wolves, but he wasn’t done with her. Rocky took Felicity by the upper arm, swept up Mars’s reins, and left the battlefield.

  Felicity kept up, allowing him to remove her, but her fury showed in her rapid breaths, the ever-readable expression on her beautiful face, and the fists she clenched.

  Ah, so she did possess a fine temper. Good.

  Around a corner and into the alleyway, Rocky dropped Mars’s leads, knowing the well-trained mount would stay put. “What were you thinking?” he demanded, “engaging a pack—”

  She gasped. “They attacked me.”

  “I saw.” His heart pounded. “To gain the upper hand in situations like that, you can’t let them close a circle around you.”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t let them get behind you. They’ll scatter before they get into formation—that pack mentality—”

  “I’m well aware.” The gray of her eyes was nearly blue in the shade of the building. Sparks of fury—indignation?—captured him and wouldn’t let go.

  “Next time, you might find yourself outnumbered ten to one, maybe more.”

  “There won’t be a next time.”

  “That’s right. Even if I have to lock you indoors or escort you everywhere you go. Where were you headed, alone?”

  She wriggled to free herself from his grasp—when had he latched both fists around her upper arms? He loosened his hold but refused to let go. She needed to understand just how horribly wrong things could have turned had he not intervened.

  “Everywhere I go, I go alone.” She refused to back down. No doubt what enticed the women to attack in the first place. “I needed air.”

  “You’re supposed to be in the best room Mrs. Ihnken has. She told me she’d move you to the corner room with two windows.”

  “You!” The sparks of temper in her eyes, now nearly midnight blue, bored into his. “You meddler! You strong-armed mean old Mrs. Ihnken.”

  He lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug.

  “I don’t need your charity.” The woman was glorious when angry.

  “This isn’t about money, Miss Felicity. Money, I have. Never even notice a few dollars gone to help a friend. It’s not charity—it’s human decency. Kindness.”

  She opened her mouth, evidently ready to let another volley fly.

  “It’s too hot in the attic and you know it.”

  She couldn’t deny that. Her fury ebbed. “Did I ask for kindness?”

  “No, and you didn’t need to. You’re a lady, and you deserve every modicum of respect.”

  With sudden awareness, he realized this firecracker of a woman stood so near, essentially in the circle of his arms. She’d tipped her face up to his, the better to yell at him. So near, the fragrance of her freshly washed hair teased his senses.

  He thumbed a bit of shmutz from her cheek.

  Her nostrils flared. Her eyes rounded.

  And just like that, he knew she was every bit as affected.

  Irresistible.

  One little dip of his head, a bissel closer…

  Their mouths pressed, motionless... Held.

  Without conscious intent, the intimate touch became a kiss. Powerful. Demanding and hungry.

  His heart nearly seized as she participated, wholly, kissing him.

  The fist to his gut nearly knocked him on his tuches.

  Sanity screamed at him to halt, to control himself. But it felt so darn good—so right, so—

  She wrenched free, her chest heaving, her wild expression made him want another kiss. No, a hundred more.

  But…he’d kissed Felicity as if he’d never wanted anyone more.

  When he’d all but promised to wed Temperance.

  He soundly berated himself. Farshtinkener. Rotten.

  The horror of his impetuous actions chased away the lingering glow. Dozens of sermons by the departed minister swamped his consciousness, reminding him of his duties, his obligations, how a gentleman must control his passions. The preacher had known all about the dangers inherent in giving in to desire.

  How had he lost himself in the craziness?

  He’d just kissed his future sister-in-law.

  Chapter Nine

  “Young men, watch yourselves that your kisses are chaste and carefully restricted. Kisses are promises and not to be given lightly. Many a fine marriage has been made when the first kiss is at the altar.”

  ~ The Gentleman’s Guide to Courtship and Marriage

  Agitated from the fight with Temperance’s cohorts, Felicity nearly vibrated. Rocky’s dime novel hero routine had her thinking things she shouldn’t. He’d merely intervened like a decent citizen. It hadn’t meant anything more—

  Until he’d kissed her.

  At least she thought—she hoped—he’d started it.

  Shame flooded her overheated body.

  She’d discovered, by age four or five, she wasn’t allowed to play with other children. By age ten, she’d determined to show everyone, by her own actions, that they’d falsely accused her.

  And what had she done?

  The first time she’d been sorely tempted to toss self-preservation to the wind, she’d kissed the man who’d protected her—from a mean old woman and a bunch of do-gooders—and liked it.

  Forbidden fruit.

  The jumble of confusing, conflicting emotions battling in her head and in her heart was nothing more than an irrational craving for forbidden fruit.

  Mortifying. She’d behaved wantonly, ignited a match to tinder as dry as the desert.

  Thank goodness she’d put a stop to the insanity before anyone witnessed that kiss.

  Ignoring everyone else out and about, she strode directly for Temperance Cartwright’s door. Alone. Rocky’s demands she go nowhere alone were utter rubbish.

  Temperance had obviou
sly started that whole incident. Felicity might have been ready to leave town, having learned as much as she’d believed she could, but after that incident—what had Rocky called it? The pack of she-wolves attacking?—Felicity couldn’t allow Temperance the victory.

  She’d say a choice thing or two to prissy Miss Temperance Cartwright. Now, before the other woman had the chance to hear of that kiss.

  Rocky seemed like the kind of man to confess and beg forgiveness.

  Upon reaching the Cartwright house, she opened the picket fence gate, strode straight up to the front porch and knocked.

  No answer.

  So Temperance was either out…or had seen Felicity coming, and knowing what her friends had been up to, opted to hide.

  Rocky walked around from behind the house. Must the man run directly to his beloved to confess his sins?

  He eyed her, his expression unreadable. “She’s not home.”

  “I see.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “I do believe, Mr. Gideon, we’ve said all that needs saying.”

  Heat darkened his coffee-brown eyes. Memory of that volatile kiss paraded over his expression, plain as day. But no sign of regret…as if that kiss, to him, was anything but a mistake.

  No way would she head down that path again. “That never should have happened.”

  He set his jaw, revealing anger and aggravation and…? What did she know about men’s reactions to women they’d kissed?

  “I won’t repeat my parents’ mistakes. I’m not that kind of woman, and I thought you knew that. Not a quarter hour ago, you defended me to those women.”

  He made his way closer in that loose-hipped rolling walk of his, shaking his head in denial. “That kiss was no mistake.”

  Her heart rolled over. He couldn’t mean—He didn’t actually think, after one kiss, one spectacular, toe-curling kiss—

  The way he looked at her had the impact of a caress, or maybe a touch of his lips to her skin. “Stay.”

  Of all the things he could have said, that wasn’t anywhere on her list. Stay? “Oh, you know I am. That pack of she-wolves, as you aptly called them, will not get the best of me.” I melted in your arms and kissed you.

  He stalked ever nearer, his boot heels thudding up three stairs to the porch. Near enough she caught the fragrance of his soap, horse, clean male, and sunshine. “You didn’t cause that mishegas. You’re too strong to turn tail and run.”

  “I’m not running.” Not from Temperance’s goons, anyhow. “I stayed long enough to learn all I can about Cartwright’s motives. I’ve accomplished that goal.”

  His expression telegraphed he’d made his point. “You intend to catch tomorrow’s train. Maybe the next day’s.”

  “Why stay? There’s nothing more to discover.”

  He shook his head and her traitorous heart leapt. “There is plenty more to discover.”

  She doubted he spoke of family history. Memory of that kiss swept through her like a hot summer wind.

  “Your father wanted you here.” He’d lowered his voice. “Temperance wants you here. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “My sister made her wishes clear.”

  His grin only heightened his appeal. Must the man have perfect white teeth?

  “You just referred to Temperance as your sister.”

  “Did not.” Oh, but she had. My sister. She’d never admit it, but she liked the sound.

  “If you won’t stay for your father, then stay for Temperance. Stay for your sister.”

  “I’ll repeat: she doesn’t want me here. The only thing I can do—” for myself, for hope of a future with a man who’ll love and respect me— “…is move on.” No sense spinning some tall tale about returning to St. Louis. “I’ll be happier anywhere but Mountain Home.”

  He narrowed his eyes. He’d caught her choice of words. “Why are you here, on Temperance’s porch?”

  She edged up her chin. “I have a thing or two to say to her before I go.” She’d ensure Temperance knew her shenanigans hadn’t scared her. When she left town, it would be because she’d chosen to, not because her pack of wolves had chased her out.

  “Do you, now?” She read realization in his eyes and the hard line of his jaw. He thought she meant that illicit, scorching kiss.

  She wanted to set him straight. She also wanted to let him stew.

  “She’ll be back, by and by,” he said. “The back door is open. I suggest you wait inside. The walls of this place are thick and the interior remains cool. Besides, the place is half yours.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” She brushed past him but he caught her and pulled her close.

  “If you’re worried I’m planning to tell Temperance about our kiss, don’t fret. There’s nothing to tell.” She held his gaze, wanting to defend her vulnerability. “You kissed me in a fit of temper, not because you wanted to. It meant absolutely nothing.”

  Heat flared in his eyes, his pupils enlarged. “That’s where you’re wrong, Miss Felicity. I kissed you because I couldn’t stand not to. I kissed you because I needed your lips beneath mine. Get on inside before I kiss you again.”

  According to the clock on the kitchen wall, Felicity waited nearly an hour for her sister’s return. Sitting at the table, she stared sightlessly through lacy curtains and mulled over the ridiculous things Rocky had said.

  He’d wanted to kiss her…not once, but again?

  He couldn’t possibly have meant it.

  The back door opened suddenly, catching her unaware. She pushed to her feet as Temperance entered the kitchen.

  The time had come, and every prepared promise had evaporated.

  She stared at her sister and her sister stared back.

  Felicity found her tongue first. “We need to talk.” No way could she admit Rocky—Mr. Gideon—had told her to wait inside. She must distance herself, refuse to think of him by anything other than the proper, formal address.

  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Wha—?

  This was not the response she’d expected or deserved. If she only knew.

  “I owe you an apology.” Temperance untied her beautiful summer bonnet and set it on the table, then removed her gloves one at a time. She gathered both of Felicity’s sun-browned hands in her pale, soft, white ones.

  The contact, skin to skin, holding hands with this sister who was a complete stranger was disconcerting. Odd. Bizarre. And sort of wonderful.

  She’d been prepared for battle, not an apology from a well-mannered Temperance.

  “I’m ashamed,” Temperance said, “for allowing my circle of friends to speak ill of you. They’re good-hearted women, one and all. Protective. Generous to a fault. They’ll love you once they know you. And they’ll be ashamed they fought like schoolboys in the street.”

  “I won’t be here long enough—”

  “Hush now.” Temperance’s grip tightened. She sat and tugged Felicity down to her chair. “Can we be friends? Will you move in and allow us to become acquainted? I do believe it’s what Father genuinely wanted.”

  “Why?” Of anything—everything—she should have, could have said in response, the one-word question echoed in the kitchen. After expecting tears and angry shouts, this abrupt about-face left her unbalanced.

  What—or who—had changed Temperance’s attitude?

  “Why not?” Temperance’s smile filled with sunshine and genuine warmth.

  “Uh… because…” Because an hour ago, Felicity had kissed Temperance’s intended. And that kiss hadn’t been remotely platonic. And minutes before that, her gang had attacked.

  “See?” Temperance’s smile brightened further. “No excuses.” With one last squeeze, she rose, went to the icebox and withdrew a pitcher of tea. She set the pitcher and two tall glasses on the table, followed by a crockery cookie jar.

  “I paid Father’s attorney another visit. I simply had to know, you understand, why Father would send for you now, not soon after my mother passed away. I can under
stand he’d withhold the information if only to spare her feelings. But she’s been gone these six months. He had time.”

  Felicity craved the answer to that question herself. She accepted the glass her sister poured.

  Whatever the attorney, W.W. Stuart, had told Temperance had utterly changed her stance, reversed her opinion, and if Felicity wasn’t grossly mistaken, had genuinely opened the younger woman’s heart to the possibility of a pleasant future. If not sisters, if not friends, then at least not enemies.

  Temperance swallowed cold tea, considered a cookie dusted with confectioner’s sugar but didn’t reach for it. She swallowed and finally set her glass down. “My conversation with Mr. W.W. Stuart was most enlightening.”

  Felicity could have screamed with impatience. “And?”

  “I always wanted a sister.”

  Felicity blinked, recalling Temperance’s refusal to acknowledge her when she’d walked by the house. “And your conversation with Stuart?”

  “I’m overflowing with happiness. And so soon after Papa’s death, when I’d been all alone in the world, to have found you—for Father to have brought you to me—is the greatest gift I could have imagined.”

  Temperance sounded as if she saw this week’s intolerable disaster as a bundle of sunshine and roses.

  “I don’t follow.”

  “You see, W.W. Stuart and our father—”

  Our father. Had Temperance actually just referred to the old man as theirs?

  “—met shortly after my mother passed away. Father rewrote his will, instructed Mr. Stuart to locate you and bring you here for the reading.”

  Details she easily inferred based upon circumstances. It still didn’t explain why.

  “Mr. Stuart explained Father’s feelings on the matter, his heartrending desire to make things right. You see, our father knew nothing of your existence until two years ago.”

  Felicity nodded, quite relieved Temperance had heard this from the attorney and not from her intended. That was one secret she knew Rocky—no!—Mr. Gideon—would rather not keep from his beloved nor be the one to tell her.

  Amazing. The revelation seemed to have softened her sister’s heart immeasurably.

  “Mr. Stuart explained that Father loved my mother desperately. I’m sorry if that wounds you, my dear, but you did ask for the whole story.”