The Major's Wife
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Will the truth set them free?
Major Seth Parker knows his wife, and the woman standing before him isn't her. The manipulative vixen who tricked his hand in marriage could never possess such innocence—nor get his heart racing like this!
Millie St. Clair has traveled halfway across the country to pull off one of the greatest deceptions ever. But with everything at stake it soon becomes clear that the hardest part might be walking away from the Major when it's all over….
"A delightful western…humor, realism and sweet emotion."—RT Book Reviews on Inheriting a Bride
stomach recoiled all over again. He’d refused the offer, more than once, but ultimately, before the day was done, he’d become a major and married her. It had been a goal he’d set for himself, to become a major, and to do so at the age of twenty-three had been enticing, but that was not why he’d given in. The reason had been the general. The man had been afraid. Seth had assumed it was because of his daughter’s reputation, but St. Clair’s fear had been deeper, more distressing than one
eyes, but his comforting touch made the chance of tripping and tumbling down the stairs a real possibility. She chose instead to hold her breath and try not to focus on how he kissed her hair, or how his hand tightened on her upper arm, holding her close to his side. It was so wonderful, yet so painful that the tears behind her eyes grew hotter, sharper. Being Rosemary had become agonizing. No, that wasn’t it. Not being Rosemary was what had become agonizing. His kiss had been all Millie had
ladder to enter her window, and none were left lying around. Turning back to assure her all was fine, he felt his heart jolt again. Not only was her gown see-through, her face was colorless. “Shhh,” he whispered. “It’s gone.” Still cowering near the wall, she shook her head. “It’s gone,” he repeated, walking slowly to the side of the bed and holding out a hand. “Come here.” Her head didn’t move, but her eyes did. “Seth?” “Yes, it’s me. Come here, sweetheart.” The
The first few pictures included Seth, but eventually her fingers copied what lay before her, the Indian village. Page after page, she drew images. Some of single people—a woman building a fire—and some of groups: three children chasing each other; young boys caring for a herd of horses grazing on the stiff brown grass; women dumping ingredients into large wooden bowls and then mixing everything together with their hands. The sun was low in the sky when Millie felt her heartbeat speed up.
said groggily, while shifting to burrow against him. “It’s cold.” Her entire side was chilled, felt like frost when it met his heated skin. He pulled the top blanket up to her shoulders and then reached below, grasping her waist. “Here, I’ll switch sides with you.” When he lifted her, intent on rolling beneath, she grasped his shoulders, nestled her entire length on top of him. “Mmm,” she said. “You’re always so warm.” Passion flared, readying him in every way to once again sample