Charlotte Douglas - Montana Mail-Order Wife

So far, Wade had given her only fragments of her life, certainly not enough for her to piece together her identity, but too much for a total stranger to know. She studied his face with more care than before, seeing past the composed veneer to a restless energy beneath. “Do I know you?”

“We’ve never met.”

Confusion made her head ache. “Then why are you here with me?”

“Maybe the rest can wait.” He avoided her eyes.

“Tell me now. Why are you being so attentive to someone you’ve never met?”

He raised his head and caught her in the powerful gaze of eyes so deep and murky she could have drowned in them.

“Because you were going to marry me.”

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Harlequin American Romance…where each month we offer four wonderful new books bursting with love!

Linda Randall Wisdom kicks off the month with Bride of Dreams, the latest installment in the RETURN TO TYLER series, in which a handsome Native American lawman is undeniably drawn to the pretty and mysterious new waitress in town. Watch for the Tyler series to continue next month in Harlequin Historicals. Next, a lovely schoolteacher is in for a big surprise when she wakes up in a hospital with no memory of her past—or how she’d gotten pregnant. Meet the last of the three identical sisters in Muriel Jensen’s WHO’S THE DADDY? series in Father Found.

Bestselling author Judy Christenberry’s Rent a Millionaire Groom launches Harlequin American Romance’s new series, 2001 WAYS TO WED, about three best friends searching for Mr. Right who turn to a book guaranteed to help them make it to the altar. IDENTITY SWAP, Charlotte Douglas’s new cross-line series, debuts with Montana Mail-Order Wife. In this exciting story, two women involved in a train accident switch identities and find much more than they bargained for. Follow the series next month in Harlequin Intrigue.

Enjoy this month’s offerings, and make sure to return each and every month to Harlequin American Romance!

Wishing you happy reading,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Montana Mail-Order Wife

Charlotte Douglas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For the brave men and women who fought the Montana wildfires of the summer of 2000.

Charlotte Douglas has loved a good story since she learned to read at the age of three. After years of teaching that love of books to her students, she now enjoys creating stories of her own. Often her books are set in one of her three favorite places: Montana, where she and her husband spent their honeymoon, the mountains of North Carolina where they’re building a summer home, and Florida, near the Gulf of Mexico on Florida’s west coast, where she’s lived most of her life.

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

591—IT’S ABOUT TIME

623—BRINGING UP BABY

868—MONTANA MAIL-ORDER WIFE * Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

380—DREAM MAKER

434—BEN’S WIFE

482—FIRST-CLASS FATHER

515—A WOMAN OF MYSTERY

536—UNDERCOVER DAD

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you this breaking news.

A Westward Railways train has derailed just outside Kalispell. Police have reported several injuries, mostly minor. Several passengers have been taken to local area hospitals.

One young woman, traveling alone, identified as Rachel O’Riley, is suffering from a concussion and what appears to be amnesia. Her fiancé has been contacted by local authorities and is at her bedside.

Only one passenger is unaccounted for—another young woman identified from her ticket receipt as Jennifer Reid. Police have called off the search, as they believe she was unharmed in the accident and left the scene. Her whereabouts and her destination are unknown….

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Wade Garrett awoke with a start, jerked upright in his chair and slammed his boots from the windowsill to the floor. Perspiration speckled his forehead, and his heart raced from the still-vivid nightmare. His son had been lost and calling to him, but he couldn’t find the boy anywhere.

He rubbed his eyes and shoved his fingers through his hair. Only a dream. Jordan was fine, at home with Ursula.

Rolling his shoulders to stretch his stiff muscles, he hoisted himself from the depths of the chair he’d slept in for the past two nights. A quick glance assured him he hadn’t disturbed the still figure in the hospital bed beside him. Rachel O’Riley lay bruised, battered and comatose, and in her vulnerable state, she tugged at his heartstrings, reminding him of his son, an angel when asleep.

Jordan, an angel?

Wade grimaced with bitter humor. Jordan awake was a holy terror. And Jordan was the reason Wade kept vigil in Rachel O’Riley’s hospital room.

He stumbled through the predawn twilight into the tiny bathroom. At the lavatory he sluiced cold water over his face to drive away the dregs of sleep, raised his head and confronted a memory in the mirror.

Six years ago he’d spent several nights in a hospital room, not caring then, either, about unkempt hair, eyes red rimmed with fatigue, or the three-day stubble on his chin. Maggie had been dying from complications of a stillbirth, and he’d kept watch, consumed with anger and pain at the circumstances that had brought her there.

Déjà vu.

Except the woman in the hospital bed wasn’t Maggie. She wasn’t dying. And he wasn’t angry. Or in pain. Why should he be? He’d never laid eyes on Rachel O’Riley until Sheriff Howard called him to the hospital after finding Wade’s name and address in her backpack.

Wade scowled at his mirror image, scrubbed his face dry with a rough paper towel and turned away, unwilling to admit, even to himself, that the mysterious Rachel had triggered a deep reaction and stirred emotions he had believed, hoped, had atrophied and died with Maggie. With the demands of the ranch and raising eight-year-old Jordan, he had no time for sentimental entanglements.

He swished cold water in his mouth, spit as if to expel his unwanted thoughts, and longed for hot, black coffee. A solid jolt of caffeine should banish his outlandish notions.

When he came out of the bathroom, the day nurse stood beside the bed, taking her patient’s pulse and making notes on a chart. Her round, pleasant face broke into a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Garrett.”

Wade nodded toward the bed. “How is she?”

“Her vital signs are strong. The doctor’s certain she’ll regain consciousness soon.”

When he headed toward his chair, the nurse waved him away. “You’re the one we’re worried about. Not enough sleep or food to keep a bird alive, much less a big man like you. Get some breakfast in the cafeteria. I’ll page you if there’s any change.”

Wade scrutinized Rachel, quiescent and pale, so slight her body barely mounded the hospital blanket above the mattress. Her tranquil face fired his interest in a disturbing way. High, sculpted cheekbones as ashen as her pillow were framed by thick blond hair that reminded him of his prize palomino in the sunlight. She had the kind of hair a man liked to run his fingers through.

The surprising sweetness of her bow-shaped mouth and the gracefulness of feathery brows arching across her smooth, high forehead were details her letters had omitted.

Her chatty correspondence had left him unmoved, so he’d been unprepared for the tightening in his gut and the heat surging through his blood at seeing her for the first time.

And every time he’d looked at her since.

Gritting his teeth until his jaw ached, he ignored the unwelcome hankering and squelched his preoccupation with her stunning face.

He’d need a whole bucket of coffee to purge the sentiment cluttering his mind—and the hormones tormenting his body.

He was overreacting to the woman because he was bone-tired, he assured himself. What he felt was only sympathy, same as he’d feel for anybody banged up as she’d been in the train accident. Once she was on her feet again and he’d had a good night’s rest, his emotional balance would return. Then he could handle the demands of the ranch he’d let slide since Sheriff Howard had called to say he was needed at the county hospital.

“You okay, Mr. Garrett?” the nurse asked.

She’d caught him gawking at Rachel like he was plumb weak north of his ears. He’d been under too much stress lately, what with Jordan’s troubles and the extra workload at the ranch, and his moonstruck behavior proved it.

“Call me if there’s any change.” Striding from the room, he ignored the impulse for one last glance.

He halted at the pay phone in the hall and dialed home. Ursula’s gravelly voice greeted him. “How is she?”

“Doc says she should be okay, but she hasn’t regained consciousness yet.” He massaged a crick in his neck. “Is Jordan staying out of trouble?”

The old housekeeper’s initial hesitation told him more than her words. “He’s fine. Just keeps asking when his daddy’s coming home.”

A mixture of guilt and frustration scoured through him, and he cursed silently. After all, the boy was the reason he was here. “I’ll be home tonight.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

He pretended not to understand. “About the train wreck?”

Ursula’s ironic expletive burst in his ear. “You know what I mean.”

“I’ll tell him. Eventually.”

He hung up the receiver and rammed his hands in his pockets. Trouble always came in threes. First Jordan’s rebellion, then the train derailment. God only knew what was next. The disturbing speculation accompanied him all the way to the cafeteria.

SHE NOTICED THE SOUNDS first. The clanking of an ice machine across the hall, the whir of rubberized wheels on a linoleum floor, hushed voices outside the door. And a strange, unrelenting pounding.

She lay quiet, eyes closed, absorbing the unfamiliar noises. The other sounds diminished, but the pounding persisted as blood rushed through her veins and her temples throbbed. She struggled against a consuming weakness and opened her eyes.

Directly above, a metal track etched the white ceiling. Her gaze followed it to the wall, where a muslin curtain was gathered back beside the bed. Beside her, a plastic bag hung from an aluminum stand, and clear tubing filled with fluid snaked from it to her wrist. When she flexed her left hand, a needle pinched her vein.