As she walked by her father’s office toward the kitchen, she paused. Who was he talking to? She moved quietly toward the door and pressed her ear against it. The voices were muted, but if she didn’t know better, she could have sworn—
The door to her father’s office abruptly opened. Claire raised her eyes in shame, straightening, ready to admit she’d been eavesdropping—but suddenly her body came to full attention.
Sullivan Clark’s clear green eyes were looking back at her.
“Claire,” he acknowledged, turning to usher her into the room, as though, expecting her.
She hesitated.
“Claire, please join us,” her father insisted.
She narrowed her eyes at Sully and walked to the far side of her father’s desk.
“What’s going on?” she demanded, whirling back to face Sully.
“Sheriff Clarke and I were just having a conversation, Claire,” her father confirmed as a conspiratorial glance passed between the two men.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” her father said as he stood back from his desk and walked toward his office door. “I have business to attend to.”
Claire watched her father walk out the door of his office and close it softly behind him. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought he had a slight lilt in his step.
She moved her eyes accusatorially to Sully’s. “Why are you here?”
"Please, Claire, sit down.”
“Why are you here?” she demanded, refusing to give way to the hope that threatened to rise in her chest. Refusing to sit.
He smiled.
She fumed.
“I’ve missed you,” he stated simply, his brilliant eyes assuring hers.
She couldn’t look away, as he moved toward her.
“I came here tonight, to talk to your father.”
Questions raced through her mind and she could see he read them in her eyes. It was uncanny the way he did that. He continued moving toward her, and she took a step back, her back now against the bookcase.
Sully smiled. It was almost predatorily. It stole her breath and her hand moved unconsciously to her stomach.
His eyes followed her every move, roving from her hair, to her eyes, and down to her waist. His fingers twitched, and he wanted to put his hands there, she could tell. Her eyes widened at the flames she glimpsed in his green orbs when they finally met hers. She licked her lips, realizing too late that she’d only drawn attention to them.
She whispered, “Why are you here?”
He moved closer—they were mere inches from one another. She steeled herself against the onslaught of emotions and desire that rocked her body. His masculine scent overwhelmed her. She’d missed it, but she struggled to resist. She needed to know the truth.
He smiled an easy, devastating smile, disarming her. Before she could protest, he kissed her. His mouth covered hers hungrily, demanding, his tongue tracing the fullness of her lips.
She pushed into him, groaning as the tight control she’d exercised suddenly snapped. She opened her mouth, welcoming his kiss with a groan.
He tore his mouth from hers, placing both his hands against the bookcase, trapping her in between, as though she were his captive. She found herself shocked at how desperately she wanted just that. It was scandalous and wanton. She mentally shook herself.
“I’m sorry—I—that’s not how I wanted this to begin.” He apologized.
She bit her lip suggestively and it was his turn to groan. “I’d say it was a pretty spectacular beginning, myself.” She admitted. Her face hot, her breath ragged, her body trembling.
He smiled at her, and her eyes widened at the love that shone in those emerald-green eyes, turning the color of evergreen, dark with desire. Was it real, or was she imagining it?
“Why are you here?” She asked again, hopeful, trying not to lose herself in his eyes. They threatened to undo her.
He took her by the hands and pulled her down onto the chairs that sat across from her father’s desk.
“Claire—tonight, I came here to ask your father for your hand in marriage.”
What?” she gasped.
“There is much to tell you…” He paused. “I wanted to ask your father’s permission before I asked you.” He looked out the window of her father’s office. “I’ve missed you. All I could think about while I was tracking those bandits—was you. Your eyes, your smile, your spirit, your stubborn determination…” He smiled and turned to look at her, caressing her cheek. She pressed into his hand.
“I don’t have all the answers, Claire, and I’m not even sure I have the right to ask you to come live the life of a sheriff’s wife—I’m not at all certain where life will take us, which is one of the reasons I’m in Philadelphia right now—but that’s a topic for later. This I do know for certain. I can’t live without you. I want you in my life. There’s so much you don’t know, and much to cover… I—I don’t even know if you feel the same.” He paused for a long moment, his eyes holding hers. “I love you, Claire Marie Hawarden, with a love I didn’t know was possible.” His eyes studied hers.
“Oh stop!” she moaned. “Just ask…” The love in his piercing green eyes stopped her short. She thought her heart would burst, and she didn’t know whether to dance or cry. Her eyes chose for her.
Sully moved from the chair, kneeling directly in front of her. He placed his hands on both sides of her face, his fingers trembling, stroking her cheeks, brushing the tears away with his thumbs before they traced her lower lip and lingered. When he moved his hand to his jacket pocket, she nearly cried out in protest.
He took a small, round green box from his pocket and opened it.
Claire’s eyes widened. Resting in the center was a stunning ring—that held a sapphire more beautiful than she’d ever seen, nestled between flawless, delicate diamonds. Intricate filigree was woven along the thin band. It took her breath away. She’d never seen anything like it.
“It was my grandmother’s,” he explained, answering the question before she could utter it, his eyes never wavering from hers.
Compelling.
Magnetic.
“Claire Marie Hawarden,” he paused, “I promise to love, honor and respect you. I will protect you. Will you marry me, join me on adventures, good times and bad, bear children with me.” Desire flashed through his eyes. “Grow old with me?”
Their eyes locked. “Yes, yes, Sullivan Clarke,” she smiled through her tears. “I love you, too. There is nothing in life I want more than to spend my life with you.”
He slipped the ring on her finger and wove his hands behind her neck. His thumb traced the front of her throat, resting on the throbbing pulse. His other hand moved down her back, and along her side to rest at her waist.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, as his right hand joined the left, spanning her waist.
Firm.
Possessive.
Every fiber of her body strained against her dress, and she took a ragged breath, cut short, as his lips descended on hers.
THE END
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Lawfully Charmed! Several advance readers emailed asking for more details on Sully and Claire’s story—they wanted to know why Sully was in Philadelphia, details of the wedding, and details on where they will end up living. They also asked why those details were not included in this book.
The simple truth is—this book is longer than planned. Lawfully Charmed is already over 34,000 words; in an effort to keep this book close to the agreed word limit, this book had to end where it did. Yet there is more to Claire and Sully’s story!
In light of this, I am writing an Epilogue that will answer these questions, and more. Click this link to be notified the moment it is available via free download: Lawfully Charmed Epilogue
The Epilogue will be delivered through my email autoresponder. If the epilogue isn’t finished just yet, you’ll reach a form. Simply submit your name and best email.
If you en
joyed Lawfully Charmed, please consider leaving a review on Amazon to help other readers discover it—even if only a sentence or two—I truly appreciate it!
Don’t miss any of the “Charmed” books set in Bareglen Creek:
Reluctantly Charmed
Patiently Charmed
Turn the page to see what’s next!
It’s Not Quite The End & Notes!
NOTES:
Please note that Bareglen Creek, TX is a fictional town created for this series. As a reference point, towns outside of San Antonio were used as a basis.
In Chapter Thirteen, Claire asks Mary, “Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf?” The Big Bad Wolf reference was first used in 17th century folklore. The Grim Brothers used it around 1812. There are quite a few references used before 1885. This reference does not refer to the song written in the 1930’s, but rather is intended as folklore.
Did you enjoy Lawfully Charmed? Turn the page for Reluctantly Charmed!
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental. Bareglen Creek, Texas is a fictional town set near San Antonio, and part of the Heroes of Texas, a Christian Western Romance series.
Copyright 2018 by Kate Cambridge
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Property of Kate Cambridge | June 2018
eBook ISBN: 978-1-947171-08-4
PRELUDE
“Mother?” Magdalena Allen whispered as she opened the door to her mother’s bedroom.
Her mother’s breathing was labored, her eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed, yet she didn’t stir. Magdalena slowly backed out of her room, closing the door quietly.
She hastily brushed away the tear making its way down her cheek. Her father had told her it would probably be only a matter of weeks before her mother passed, but Magdalena hadn’t believed it until recently. Her throat tightened as she made her way downstairs to her father’s medical office. Tears never solved anything and they wouldn’t start now, she told herself with her hands clenched by her sides.
She paused halfway down the stairs, grasping the railing, her forehead against the cool plaster wall. Approaching her father while she was upset would accomplish nothing, she’d learned that a long time ago. She needed to be calm and logical, and she also needed to find a way to suggest that they bring Doctor Chatham, or even Doctor Standish in to confirm her father’s diagnosis, or see if there was something else that could be done?
But in her heart, she knew that it would be wasted breath. Her father was a well-respected physician in Philadelphia, and the likelihood that he would welcome another physician or opinion into their home was zero. Zero. She knew it as sure as she was standing in this stairwell.
She took a deep, shaky breath and turned around, making her way back up the stairs toward the bedrooms. No—confronting her father would do nothing—and there was no way to bring another doctor in without his knowledge because they would, of course, reach out to him before ever agreeing to see her mother. He, of course, would never allow it.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she noticed their maid, Rachel, opening the door to her mother’s room. She moved quickly to join her.
“Miss Magdalena,” Rachel acknowledged her with a whisper.
“Miss Rachel,” she acknowledged back, her voice soft.
“She’s sleeping more and more,” Miss Rachel observed.
“Yes, she is. I’m worried.”
“I know, Miss” Rachel reached the side of the bed and took the washcloth from the rack, dipping it in the basin, gently wiping my mother’s brow, but she didn’t stir. “Your father is leaving town for a day,” Rachel suggested quietly.
“When?”
“I overheard him telling his last patient that he would be away tomorrow but back the following day if they needed him.”
Magdalena moved to Rachel’s side. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, Miss, I’m sure.”
“Bless you, Miss Rachel. Bless you.” Magdalena took her mother’s hands gently into hers, then felt for her pulse. It was weak and thready. She heard the door open behind her but didn’t turn. She knew it was her father.
“Magdalena, can I see you?” He asked in his ever-present commanding way.
Magdalena sighed, closed her eyes, took a deep breath and turned to join her father, closing her mother’s bedroom door behind her.
“Father?”
“Join me in my office.” He demanded, making his way down the stairs, not bothering to pause to see if Magdalena followed. Of course, she followed. “I have to go out-of-town tomorrow. I’ll be gone for the day,” he continued. “I’ve asked Dr. Standish to be available should your mother need—anything.”
He opened his office door, moving aside to let Magdalena enter before him, then gestured to a chair across from his desk.
Magdalena took a long, hard look at her father. He looked tired—exhausted even. This had been difficult for both of them.
“Have you consulted with Dr. Standish?” She ventured.
“Of course I have, Magdalena!” His voice was cross. He placed both hands on his desk and moved forward.
Magdalena could barely withstand his glare.
“Do you really think I would risk your mother’s health? Not consult another physician in the event I missed something—anything?” His voice was ragged, tinged with desperation.
“I’m sorry, father.” She whispered.
In a rare moment of compassion, he reached his arm across his desk. Magdalena placed her hand in his, fighting back the tears. “How long?” She asked quietly, unable to hold back the water that welled in her eyes.
“Your mother is a strong woman, Mags,” his voice hitched, “but I think she has days or a week at best.”
Magdalena’s breath caught—it had been years since her father had called her that. “If that’s true, why are you leaving her?”
“This guest lecture has been scheduled for months, Magdalena,” he scolded. “I can’t back out of it, and I’ve made sure Dr. Standish’s schedule is open in the event—in the event he is needed. I’ve arranged for round-the-clock care, and I’ll be spending tonight with her.”
Magdalena nodded, then rose and walked through the door without looking back.
ONE
“Father, this is barbaric! We’re not living in the dark ages any longer, and I can’t believe you’re giving me this ultimatum.” Magdalena Allen snapped, her chest heaved, and she narrowed her eyes at her father.
“Three months, Magdalena, you’ve got three months to find a husband and set a wedding date, or I’ll choose one for you. It’s not an ultimatum—it’s a promise.” Her father waved his hand in dismissal, his eyes moving back to the papers on his desk. “Close the door behind you.”
Magdalena’s hands balled into fists at her sides. He couldn’t even say please, she fumed. It was all she could do not to stomp out of his office and slam the door—but she’d learned a long time ago that kind of behavior wouldn’t result in what she wanted.
The truth was, she didn’t really know what she wanted from her life, but she knew for certain that it didn’t include a husband. One domineering man in her life was enough, and she wasn’t about to add another to the mix.
Magdalena closed the door to her father’s office softly behind her. “Kill them with kindness,” her mother had always said.
How she missed her! Magdalena leaned against the outside of the office door, slowly uncurling her hands.
Her father was a surgeon—the best in Phi
ladelphia—and he had saved many lives, but he couldn’t save the single most important person in her life—her mother.
She slowly released the breath she’d been holding, brushing a lone tear from her cheek. In fairness, it had been difficult on her father, too. She knew he missed her mother as much as she—but now that her mother was gone, so was the buffer between Magdalena and her father.
Where her mother was gentle, kindhearted, good, and wise—her father was cold, authoritative, logic-driven, and he rarely, if ever, showed emotion.
On some level, she knew he had a heart, but now that her mother was gone, the occasional soft side of her father—the side that loved her mother—seemed to be closed off. His heart may be beating and keeping him alive, but that was the only function it played in the successful surgeon’s life.
“Miss Magdalena?”
“Yes, Miss Rachel?” She sighed as she turned away from her father’s office door toward their housekeeper and Magdalena’s personal maid.
“Your father is still grieving. Men do it differently than women. Just give him time.”
“Time, Miss Rachel? There is no time. He’s given me three months to find a husband or else he’s promised to choose one for me.”
“Tsk, tsk. Surely he doesn’t mean that, Miss Magdalena,” Rachel’s knowing eyes filled with sympathy, “but even if he does, a husband wouldn’t be such a bad thing would it? Someone to take care of you?”
“I don’t need a man to take care of me, Miss Rachel,” Magdalena seethed, “I just need a world where women are considered equal with men, able to own their own businesses, make their own choices, and live their lives as they please—with—without the interference and suffocating dominance of men!”
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