The Texan's Inherited Family

by Noelle Marchand

  She noticed the mischievous look in his eye only an instant before she felt one of her hairpins being tugged free. She batted his hand away and covered her hair while retreating a few steps from the creek. “Don’t you dare, Quinn Tucker.”

  A lazy grin revealed his dimples. “You were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”

  She froze and stared at him. “I was?”

  “Yes, even though you weren’t very nice to me that night.”

  “I was, too.”

  “No.” He crossed his arms, which somehow only made them look more powerful. “You said I reminded you of a bear and desperately needed a shave and a haircut.”

  She kept her tone solemn even as she felt her eyes begin to dance. “But you did remind me of a bear and you did desperately need a shave and a haircut.”

  He growled.

  She held up one finger. Widening her eyes, she glanced at the woods surrounding them in fear. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” His entire body tensed while his boots spread into a protective stance as he scanned their surroundings.

  “I don’t know. It almost sounded like...a bear.” She waited for his gaze to snap back to hers, watched his eyes narrow and his jaw twitch. Her lips already curving into a smile, she pressed them together to keep from laughing. A giggle slipped out, anyway.

  “That’s strange. To me, it sounded like someone asking to be thrown in the creek.”

  Her eyes widened for real this time. She held up her hands, backing away from him as he stalked her every move. “Now, Quinn. Be reasonable. Don’t do anything I’ll make you regret.”

  “Oh, I won’t regret a single thing, darlin’.” He grabbed for her. She evaded him by dashing behind a tree. He ran around the other side to cut off her escape. She faked left then went right. He caught her arm then channeled her momentum to spin her around so that she ran right into his hard chest. The impact hardly rocked him as he locked his arms around her waist. “Better prepare yourself. It may be warmer today, but that water is still going to be cold.”

  She tilted her head back to search his face. He wouldn’t really throw her in the creek, would he? Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure. There was a playful glint in his eyes that she didn’t trust. She worked her hands between them in an effort to push her way out of his arms. He wasn’t cooperating, which made the task nigh on impossible. “An honorable man would allow me a forfeit.”

  “What kind of forfeit?”

  “I’ll let you wash the dishes for me tonight.”

  “I don’t think you understand how forfeits work. You’re supposed to do something for me.” His voice deepened. “Or...give me something I want.” His attention flickered down to her lips before returning to her eyes.

  Her breath seemed to get lost in her chest. Perhaps he’d forgotten that he’d ordered her not to kiss him again unless it meant something. She hadn’t forgotten. In her book, that meant the next person to do any kissing would have to be him. She lifted a brow. “I have a better idea. How about I apologize and you let me go?”

  “Not a chance.”

  He said it so gravely that she had to smile. Sliding her hands up to his shoulders, she clasped them behind his neck and rose on tiptoe to place herself more securely in his arms. She took care to speak tenderly so as not to rile him as she whispered, “Please, Bear.”

  “No.” He whispered, and then eased her backward in a slow dip that shifted her to the center of his embrace. He finished the smooth movement by lifting her just enough to meet his kiss. Her equilibrium, already struggling to compensate, was completely lost. She clung to him as the kiss deepened and intensified. She could feel the walls she’d built around her heart catching fire with her, tumbling into ashes, floating away on the wind that teased her senses with the faint scent of Quinn’s bay rum aftershave.

  She was left vulnerable and exposed as her fears melted away. They would return. She was certain of that because there would be no getting him out of her heart after this. He would stay there no matter what his reaction was to her secret. That meant she could potentially be hurt deeply—as deeply as she allowed herself to love him. She didn’t want to get hurt, but it was too late. What she hadn’t wanted to admit before was clear to her now. She was well on her way to loving Quinn already. In fact, she probably had been from the very beginning. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been so eager to accept his offer of marriage no matter how many children he had.

  He allowed them both a free breath before he sealed his kiss with a softer, briefer one. When he released her waist, she stumbled a few dazed steps to stare at him. She pressed the back of her hand to her lips then trailed it upward to smooth her hair. She tried to speak, but what came out was little more than the last half of a sigh.

  “That was...” Quinn slowly shook his head as he stared back at her in wonder. After a moment, determination set the angles of his chiseled jaw. “Now, for your forfeit.”

  “My—what was the kiss, then?”

  “A kiss.” His smile told her he knew it had been far from just an ordinary kiss. “You still owe me a forfeit.” He chuckled as she set her hands on her hips and glared. “Don’t worry, darlin’. All I want you to do is answer some questions for me.”

  She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “What kind of questions?”

  “Questions about you. On the drive over here, I realized that you know so much about me—even down to my deepest darkest secret. Yet, I know hardly anything about you. Why is that?”

  “I’m not that interesting.”

  He gave her a disbelieving look. “I think you are. What’s more, you’ve helped me with all of my problems, from needing a wife, to finances, to reading. I’d like to help you like you’ve helped me, but you’ve never even mentioned having any problems except that time you had a nightmare.”

  Her heart started racing for an entirely different reason. “I guess I do tend to keep my problems to myself.”

  “Then you’ll tell me more about yourself?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  He stepped forward to take her hands in his. “Everything.”

  “Everything?” She swallowed hard. She couldn’t tell him everything.

  He nodded. “Start at the beginning. What were you like as a child?”

  She pulled in a calming breath. She could do this. She could tell him about herself without betraying her secret. She just had to be careful. Something akin to conviction pricked her conscience. She struggled to salve it. After all, it wasn’t as if she was lying. She was just leaving a few things out...for now. She forced a laugh. “That may take a while. I’m sure you’ll find out plenty about me when we visit my parents, but I’d be happy to tell you about the distracted little daydreamer I used to be. Why don’t we sit down and have our picnic while we talk.”

  “I almost forgot what brought us here in the first place.” He gave her a little wink that caused her heart to skip like a rock. “Come on. Let’s see what Ellie packed for us.”

  He led her toward the picnic basket and she followed him—followed her heart even as it brought her closer to her day of reckoning. She tried to convince herself that she was making more out of this than she needed to since they had four children already. Surely that would soften the blow for him as it had for her. However, there was still the possibility—or, perhaps, probability—that he might resent being sold damaged goods as much as Tom had. In that case, the best thing she could do was enjoy these moments with Quinn so she would have them to cherish later if things ever changed. What else could she do now that she’d thrown down the shield around her heart like a gauntlet to both love and heartache?

  * * *

  Ten days later, Reece and Clara had finished their last day of lessons before the Thanksgiving break, which, Quinn discovered, somehow gave them boundless energy. Trent and
Olivia seemed to take their cue from their older siblings, so he found himself blindfolded during a fourth game of blindman’s buff after supper. A small hand tapped his leg. He turned toward it slowly enough for whoever it was to get away, earning Olivia’s giggle as a reward. A snicker that sounded like Reece came from his left just as a breeze passed by on his right. It stirred the air enough that he caught Helen’s scent.

  She was close. He froze, listened carefully enough to discover the almost-silent rhythm being beat out on the floor. Of all the gall...she was dancing! In fact, she probably had been for a while, though how she’d evaded his searching outstretched arms all this time was beyond him. She was too easy a mark now that he knew, but he couldn’t help joining in with a little jig of his own.

  Laughter came at him from all sides while someone gasped. It must have been Clara, because she spoke up from behind him. “He’s been able to see all this time!”

  “No, but I can hear real well.” He spun toward her. She yelped. He gave her a head start as she dashed away. However, her steps were heavy with panic and she was easy to track down. He caught her arm and reeled her in. “Who could this be?”

  “Cla—” Trent’s yell was muzzled; probably by Reece, who’d been particularly frustrated by his brother’s inability to remember the blind man had to guess his captive’s identity correctly to win.

  “I think it’s Clara.” He removed his blindfold to glance down at her.

  She pouted. “You hunted me down.”

  “You bet I did, sweetheart, because I needed one of these.” He lifted her into the air high enough to place a smacking kiss on her cheek before setting her down. “We’ll pick up with Clara the next time we play.”

  The children’s protests at ending the game were immediate and fierce. It was getting close to bedtime and they needed to calm down, so Quinn shook his head. “Sorry, that’s it. I’m done. Y’all wore me out. See?”

  He collapsed onto the rug. One at a time his family took their cue from him by wilting down to the floor. However, instead of landing on the rug, they all ended up on him or each other until he felt like the floor in a game of pick-up sticks. After more laughter and a few grumbles, they seemed content to relax, so Quinn didn’t have any room to complain or to move. He didn’t mind, though. Especially since Helen’s head came to rest on his left shoulder.

  Ever since that kiss at the creek, she somehow seemed even kinder and sweeter than she’d been before. He hadn’t kissed her again because he didn’t want to presume too much, but he’d been thinking about it a lot. Perhaps more than he should. To get his mind off of it now, he asked, “Are y’all excited about our trip to Austin tomorrow? It sounds like Helen’s parents have a lot of fun things planned for us.”

  “Yes,” Reece answered. “I just feel bad because we’ll have to leave Charlie all alone. Can’t we take him—Ouch. Clara!”

  Quinn wasn’t sure what Clara had done to Reece, but her fierce whisper was easy to hear. “You weren’t supposed to tell about Charlie. Now he’ll have to go away.”

  Quinn and Helen sat up at the same time, which forced the children to do the same. He barely got the question out before Helen. “Who is Charlie?”

  Trent was wide-eyed and obviously confused. Olivia frowned at them all. The older two looked guiltier than he’d ever seen them. Finally, Reece explained as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “He’s our friend who lives in the woods.”

  “What woods, Reece?” Helen asked.

  “The woods around our house.”

  Quinn frowned in concern. “What is Charlie? A child? A dog? What?”

  Clara shook her head. “He’s a man. A full-growed man.”

  “Full-grown,” Helen corrected then shook her head as though unable to process the children’s meaning. “Wait. So there’s a strange man living on our property? And y’all knew and didn’t tell us? How long has this been going on?”

  Clara lifted her chin. “He isn’t strange.”

  “Yeah, he’s nice.”

  Quinn waved off their words. “Answer your aunt’s questions. How long?”

  Reece shrugged. “I don’t know. We met him last week when we were playing outside. He gave us some cookies like our ma used to make. Our second ma, I mean.”

  Trent’s little body stiffened. “You had cookies, and you didn’t tell me?”

  “Cookie?” Olivia looked around as though expecting them to materialize from thin air.

  Clara patted Trent’s knee. “I wanted to, but it was supposed to be a secret.”

  Reece grimaced. “Land sakes, Clara, I’m sorry. What more do you want from me?”

  Trent glared. “I want my cookies.”

  Olivia held out her hands, with chubby fingers grasping the air. “Cookie!”

  “That’s enough.” Quinn stood and set the three oldest side by side on the settee. With Helen at his side holding Olivia, he looked them in the eye one at a time. “I want y’all to listen to me very closely.”

  Trent looked near to tears. “I didn’t do anything!”

  “I know that.” Quinn knelt in front of the settee and covered the boy’s cheek. “I’m not angry at you. Or you, Clara. Or you, Reece. It’s just important to me that y’all understand what I’m going to say. That’s why I want y’all to stop bickering and pay attention to me. Understand?”

  He waited until the three of them nodded then extended his hand to Helen. Once she took it, he turned back to the children. “Your aunt and I love each one of you more than we could ever hope to express. We want you to be safe. That is why it is important for you to watch out for—what should we call them? Tricky people.”

  Clara frowned. “What are tricky people?”

  “Tricky people are grown-ups who ask you to keep secrets from your aunt and me or from each other. They tell you it’s all right to do things without our permission. That includes taking things they offer you, going places with them or doing whatever they’re asking you to do. Grown-ups who ask you to keep them safe are also tricky people.”

  Helen squeezed his hand in support. “So what should the children do if they think they’re dealing with a tricky person, Quinn?”

  “Get away from that person. Find me or your aunt. Tell us about it. Understand?”

  They all nodded. Reece put a protective arm around Clara’s shoulders. She frowned. “Charlie is a tricky person?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Quinn allowed Helen to finish up the conversation. As she helped them deal with the emotional part of it, he was already planning his next course of action. He wanted to take care of this before they left for their trip tomorrow afternoon. Since it was already dark, he’d best wait for first light to start canvassing the woods for the trespasser. Perhaps he’d swing by the sheriff’s place first to get his help.

  During the past ten days, Sheriff Sean O’Brien had been persistent in searching for information regarding Jeffery Richardson and the children’s inheritance. However, the sheriff hadn’t been able to make any progress on either issue. The local officials in Alaska seemed to resent any kind of outside interference. It was frustrating, to say the least. Meanwhile, Quinn wouldn’t stand for anyone messing with his family. The trespasser would find that out soon enough. So would Richardson.

  Quinn couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something important pertaining to that situation, but what? The answer came to him later that night just as he finished reviewing Helen’s reading lesson. Richardson had sent Quinn a letter notifying him of Wade’s death. It was still in the desk where Quinn had put it because he couldn’t read. Well, he could read now. Surely the letter would offer some information about what had happened to Wade’s assets even if what it said was false.

  He wanted to be able to give the letter to the sheriff at daybreak, which meant he’d have to go into Helen’s room while she was s
leeping at some point. He might as well do it now. He’d just have to be quiet about it. He opened Helen’s door, wincing as it creaked. So much for being quiet.

  He found her pushing to her elbow with sleep lading her thick lashes. She spoke almost as slowly as she blinked. “Is it morning?”

  “No, I—”

  “Must be the children, then.” She didn’t even bother with her house robe. She just took the blanket with her as she stood. “They were still a little upset when I read them. I mean the book.” She gave her head a minuscule shake. “What?”

  He really ought to tell her to go back to sleep, but it was hard to do anything other than watch her be adorable. “Are you asking me or yourself?”

  “I’m not sure.” She stared up at him until her eyes focused. “Which one of the children needs me?”

  He aimed her back toward the bed when she tried to walk past him. “There’s nothing wrong with the children. You go on back to sleep now. I just came in here to get something from the desk. I promise I won’t disturb you again tonight.”

  She made a humming noise and was already sleeping by the time he grabbed everything out of the desk drawer. He spread his loot out on the kitchen table. He discovered that many of the papers he’d saved over the years on the off chance he’d learn to read were nothing other than advertisements for products he’d never use or need. He ignored everything except the letter on top with its seal flap facing up. He opened the envelope and sat down to read aloud in case he needed to sound out any words.

  He went straight to the body of the letter, which was written in a smooth, precise script.

  I never stopped loving you. I cannot tell you how much I regret letting you go the night of our engagement.

  It took a second for the words to process. He read them again, frowned and glanced at the header. “Dearest Helen”? Was this a love letter? From whom? Unlike the rest of the letter, the signature boasted fancy curves in the cursive style of writing Quinn had yet to learn.

  How long ago had it been written? There was no date on the letter. However, the paper had a stiffness to it that suggested it had been recently transcribed. Stranger still, there was no stamp on the envelope. Did that mean this person lived around here? Was that why Helen had insisted on going into town by herself?