Susan Fox - To Tame a Bride

Letter to Reader Dear Reader, I grew up watching Roy Rogers movies. Dale Evans, his costar who later became his wife, often played a spirited, sometimes spoiled heroine who started out being a trial to this noble Western hero before he won her over and she fell in love with him. A little like Unc and Maddie in my story. Roy Rogers was my first crush. My lifelong admiration for this kind, gentle man, who was the same man of honor in real life that he played on the screen, has strongly influenced the ranch stories I love to write. I hope you enjoy Linc and Maddie’s story. I had a ball writing about these two. Happy trails to the King of the Cowboys; and to Dale, God bless you and keep you with us. For the rest of you, I I hope your lives are filled with happily-ever-afters. Title Page To Tame a Bride Susan Fox www.millsandboon.co.uk Dedication For my mother, Marvel Terry. The sweetest, most loving mother on planet Earth, and the gentlest, classiest, most honorable woman I know. I love you with all my heart. I can’t find adequate words to express how much you mean to me. God bless you. CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN EPILOGUE Copyright

Two rebellious cousins—and

the men who tame them!

Meet Caitlin and Maddie: two beautiful,

spirited cousins seeking to overcome family

secrets and betrayal....

Neither cousin is looking for marriage—these Texas

women have proud, rebellious hearts, and it would

take two very powerful men to tame them.

But look out, Caitlin and Maddie—two tough,

gorgeous guys are about to try to sweep you up the

aisle...and they won’t take no for an answer!

These two rebel brides are about to

meet their match at last.

Last month we met Caitlin in

To Claim a Wife (#3556)

This month enjoy Maddie’s story in

To Tame a Bride (#3560)

Dear Reader,

I grew up watching Roy Rogers movies. Dale Evans, his costar who later became his wife, often played a spirited, sometimes spoiled heroine who started out being a trial to this noble Western hero before he won her over and she fell in love with him. A little like Unc and Maddie in my story.

Roy Rogers was my first crush. My lifelong admiration for this kind, gentle man, who was the same man of honor in real life that he played on the screen, has strongly influenced the ranch stories I love to write.

I hope you enjoy Linc and Maddie’s story. I had a ball writing about these two.

Happy trails to the King of the Cowboys; and to Dale, God bless you and keep you with us. For the rest of you, I I hope your lives are filled with happily-ever-afters.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my mother, Marvel Terry. The sweetest, most loving mother on planet Earth, and the gentlest, classiest, most honorable woman I know. I love you with all my heart. I can’t find adequate words to express how much you mean to me. God bless you.

CHAPTER ONE

THAT FRIDAY MORNING, Madison St. John almost missed her mother’s phone call.

She’d been on her way out the door for a shopping trip when she heard the phone ring. Because the maid would answer and take a message, Madison ignored it and walked on to her car.

Few people made personal calls to Madison St. John. She had no family besides her absent mother and a cousin, Caitlin Bodine. She and Caitlin hadn’t spoken in five years, and her mother only contacted her on the rare occasion that she recalled she had a daughter.

Infrequent Christmas and birthday gifts were Madison’s only proof that her mother gave a thought to her at all. Gifts which often arrived in the wrong month, indicating both a conscience that ran on delay and an uncertainty of just which month her mother had given birth. Judging by the age-appropriateness of the gifts, Rosalind St. John was also behind in her calculation of the year her only child had been born.

Madison didn’t know if her devil-may-care father had survived the European racing circuit or his bohemian lifestyle. She’d been twelve years old the last time she’d heard from him. He’d sent her a postcard from some obscure village in France, but that was eleven years ago now. She had no idea if her mother had been in more recent contact with the jet-setting playboy she’d been married to so briefly once upon a time, or if he was even alive. Whatever had become of him, it wasn’t something Madison would likely ever know, unless she bothered to hire an investigator.

Madison suppressed the dismal thoughts. She’d lived most of her life without her mother and father, and she could go on doing so. She’d learned to need no one, and there were times when she was glad of it. Life was so much less painful if you didn’t care about anyone.

The chauffeur had just opened the back door of her Cadillac when the maid bustled out of the mansion and rushed down the sidewalk toward her.

“Miss St. John!”

Madison turned her head, annoyed by the delay. The little maid was in the kind of haste Madison considered undignified, and the faint scowl she gave the woman was meant to convey that. This maid had only worked for her three months, but by now she should have learned how Madison expected her to conduct herself.

The maid’s excited, “Miss St. John—you have a call—your mother!” betrayed a knowledge of things the woman shouldn’t have been privy to.

Though Madison rarely discussed her background with anyone—and never with her staff—this sign that the maid knew precisely how rare and significant such a call would be was evidence that Madison’s employees, like everyone else in Coulter City, Texas, gossiped about her behind her back. She arched a brow and stared coolly until the little maid’s eyes veered guiltily from hers.

Her stiff, “Thank you, Charlene,” was rigidly composed, as was her ladylike stride as she stepped away from her car and walked back to the mansion.

Her heart did a little flip as the news of her mother’s call began to impact her more deeply. Memories of her childhood flashed strongly through her mind. She’d been devoted to her glamorous mother, doing anything she could to please her. Because her handsome, dashing father was around so infrequently, her mother was often sad and at loose ends.

Madison had desperately wanted her mother to be happy. Rosalind could be so bright and cheery and fun that her gloomy moods were frightening for her small daughter. Hadn’t Madison known, even then, that she would lose her mother if she couldn’t cure Rosalind’s unhappiness?

She’d tried so hard to please her distracted parent. She’d been her mother’s slave and her shadow, fetching things for her, never causing problems, keeping her own little dresses clean and her hair neat. It had terrified Madison to discover that she was an ugly duckling, but she’d heard her mommy complain about it to her friends, so it had to be true. The tone of her mother’s voice when she’d said the words had made her feel sick to her stomach. She’d realized then how lucky she was that anyone bothered with her at all; she also learned that her value to the people she loved and needed most rested almost completely on her looks.

Each night she’d asked God to make her beautiful so her mother could love her. If God made her beautiful, perhaps her handsome father would come home, or he’d send them plane tickets so they could fly to France and watch him race his cars.

Every morning she’d gotten up and dashed to the mirror to see if her prayers had been answered. Every morning she’d had to face the same homely little features and dishwater-blond hair that she’d gone to bed with the night before.

Though it had broken her heart, she’d understood how unfair it was that a woman as beautiful as her mother had been left alone to raise a homely little girl. She’d worried about how embarrassing it must be for Rosalind to be seen with her, and to have to present such an ugly child to her glamorous friends—whose own children were so pretty and handsome... and cruel.

Her worst fears came true the summer she turned eight. She’d known then that it was too late; her mother had waited long enough for her ugly duckling to show some sign of becoming a swan. Rosalind St. John had taken Madison to her grandmother, Clara Chandler, introduced her to the elderly woman whom she’d never met, then abandoned her to her grandmother’s dour mercies.

As an adult, Madison understood how crippling her childhood had been, how desolate and misguided. Living with her grandmother had been a new little hell of its own. But through her grandmother, she’d gotten to meet her country cousin, Caitlin Bodine. Though dark-haired Caitlin was as beautiful as a little angel, she’d never seemed to notice that Madison was homely. She never made fun of her face or her hair, never was mean to her in any way.

Caitlin’s mother had just died and her father didn’t care about her either. With so much in common, they’d bonded to each other instantly. Madison had been so grateful for Caitlin’s unconditional friendship that she’d cried herself to sleep with happiness every night that first week.

Madison blinked away the sentimental sting. Caitlin... The painful moral dilemma she’d been wrestling with for weeks sent another wave of chaos through her heart. Could she truly forgive her cousin and dearest friend for what she’d done? Only the distraction of her mother’s phone call could have quieted that chaos and given her a strong enough focus to ignore it.

She walked into the library and paused to close the door. The moment she was certain she was alone, she dashed across to the big desk and snatched up the telephone receiver. She hesitated before she spoke, squeezing her eyes closed, trying to moderate her excited breaths to sound completely normal and composed. Her pulse rate accelerated until her heart battered her chest.

Her quiet, “Madison St. John,” was as unaffected as she could make it. She gripped the phone receiver so tightly that her fingers ached.

“Hello, Maddie! My goodness, you sound so grown-up—how are you, dear?”

Rosalind’s question was a practised social opener, not one she seriously wanted an answer to. Madison forced a smile into her voice and came right back with a saccharine, “How are you, Mother? You sound wonderful.”

“I’ve remarried,” Rosalind burst out, as if she were too happy to contain herself.

Madison lowered herself slowly to the swivel chair behind the desk and bit her lower lip viciously as she listened to her mother’s excited voice.

Rosalind had remarried. How many husbands did that make now? Her new husband, Roz said, was a very rich older man who showered her with attention and fun and the most exquisite gifts. His grown children adored her, and she was now a grandmother.

“Stepgrandmother, of course,” Rosalind chirped on. “Of course, no one can believe that I’m old enough to be a grandmother—” She paused to laugh at that. “I get so tired of everyone constantly remarking that I look too young to be a grandma. I’m thinking of simply claiming that I’m their mommy. Oh, they’re such little dears—three of them now—two precious, precious little girls, and one very handsome little boy...”

Madison bowed her head, hurt beyond words. The “little dears” must have had the good fortune to be born beautiful. And God, three of them!