For Love and Honor

Three military heroes . . . fighting to protect their countries, their homes, and the women they love.

For Love and Honor

In
New York Times
bestselling author Cathy Maxwell's
The Bookish Miss Nelson
, it's the duty of daring Army Captain William Duroy to escort Miss Pippa Nelson through enemy territory, bringing her safely home to England. But can he resist falling in love?

In Lynne Hinton's
Letters From Pie Town
, a New Mexico town couldn't be prouder of its very own Raymond Twinhorse, injured while fighting in Afghanistan. So Trina Lockhart gathers letters from Raymond's friends and family, hoping their wishes will help to heal the man she loves—and bring him back home.

In Candis Terry's
Home Sweet Home
, Lt. Aiden Marshall returns to Sweet, Texas, after facing the devastation of war. With the help of the entire town—and a tail-wagging companion—the woman he's always loved makes her hero's homecoming all the more sweet.

For Love and Honor

CATHY MAXWELL

LYNNE HINTON

CANDIS TERRY

Contents

Dear Reader,

We all honor the work that the heroic members of the military do and have done through the ages. With that in mind, I’m thrilled to present
For Love and Honor,
three novellas by three wonderful writers.

This collection came out of a brainstorming session. We wanted stories revolving around the theme of “military men.” With that in mind, we approached three authors and told them to take the idea and run with it. What resulted are three unique romances, each special in its own way.

New York Times
bestselling writer Cathy Maxwell tells a Regency-set tale. Lynne Hinton and Candis Terry’s works are contemporary. But what they have in common is that they are deliciously romantic stories that I know you are all going to love.

Best,

Lucia Macro

Vice-President, Executive Editor

Avon Books

The Bookish Miss Nelson

CATHY MAXWELL

Chapter One

Spain, 1812

“A
N OFFICER UNDER
my command does not brawl like a common criminal, especially with the Irish.” Colonel Medford hurled the words at Captain William Duroy as if they were rocks.

Heat flushed William’s face. He had no regrets for jumping in the fray. The Irish had insulted his men, who had no choice but to defend their honor with their fists. They’d been outnumbered, and the Irish were not gentlemen. The fight had not been going in their favor until William had joined them, and then they had routed those sorry Irish bastards and taught them manners.

The Irish had been artillery men, and so the victory for the cavalry had been doubly sweet.

What William had not anticipated was for word to reach the prissy Medford. Even though Medford was his superior officer, he was of the same age and the two did not mesh well.

Medford was a younger son of a duke who had purchased his son’s advancements. William’s father was rich, having made his money in the service of the East India Company, but he was proud of his commoner roots. He believed his nine sons should work for their livings. For William, that meant earning field promotions.

“Suffice it to say there must be repercussions for your poor judgment,” Medford said. He came around his desk to stand before William. He was a short man and had to look up to face William.

“You are hot-headed, Duroy. An officer under my command controls his temper. I want level heads around me. So, I’m going to have you cool your heels by undertaking a special mission.” Medford placed his hands behind his back. “You will organize a small party of your men to escort our envoy to Spain’s daughter back to Lisbon, where she will be sent home to England.”

“
No
.” The word burst from William before he had time to think clearly.

Medford’s chin shot up in affront. William hurried to explain, “With all due respect, sir, we are preparing to meet the French any day now. I’m certain my presence, and that of my men, are needed here.” Otherwise, he’d not have a chance at promotion. Thanks to Medford, he’d been a captain far too long.

The French and British armies had been shadowing each other for months. The event of it was in the air. Fortifications were being built and men moved with more purpose in the hot Spanish sun. After months of waiting and planning, the time was close at hand. He could not miss it.

“I want to fight,” William said, the words hard to speak because he was begging.

“You have had your fight, Captain,” Medford said, moving around his desk to his chair. “You chose to squander it on some Irish drunkards. I’ve already sent word to General Wellington that you will be escorting Sir Hew’s daughter.”

“Sir Hew Nelson?” William asked for clarification. “I’m to
escort
Miss Pippa Nelson?”

Medford smiled, the expression unpleasant. “I believe you unmarried lads refer to her as Bookworm Pippa, because she prefers having her nose in a book than admiring any of your antics.”

William had never met her, but he’d heard plenty about her. She was her father’s hostess and overly proud of her intellect. William didn’t mind strong women. His mother was very independent. However, they said Pippa Nelson enjoyed showing men the sharp side of her tongue.

He’d also heard that her father had left her at Wellington’s headquarters and departed on some mission without instructions on what was to be done with her. Apparently, the general had made his own decision.

“You are dismissed, Captain,” Medford said, returning his attention to the papers on the desk in front of him.

And it was done. There was nothing else William could do. He was being banished days before what might be one of the most important battles against the French. He about-faced and walked out of the tent.

Medford’s aide, Lieutenant Harris, was waiting for him outside with further instructions on the men he could take.

William listened in shock. The aide was an officer William considered a friend. He finished his instructions by advising, “The sooner you cart her to Lisbon, Duroy, the sooner you may return.”

“I’ll be too late for the battle,” William said. “I can’t believe this.” The promotion was only a small part of why William wanted to return. He was a soldier. Soldiers fought. It was what they did.

“Well, if we vanquish the French in one battle and Napoleon surrenders completely, then yes,” Harris said. “But I don’t see that happening. It’s possible you might make the battle if you return in time.”

Could he make the trip to Lisbon and back in four to five days’ time? Yes, if he pushed his men.

Determined now to make the best of the situation, William ordered Harris to send word to Miss Nelson to prepare to leave immediately.

He then picked a party of eight of his men to accompany him. He briefed them himself. “We don’t want to miss our opportunity at Boney on Spanish soil, lads. We will make this trip to Lisbon and back inside a week. Choose the best horses and be prepared to ride in an hour.”

Mounting his horse, Valiant, William rode over to Wellington’s headquarters. The area around the building was a hive of activity, with aides hurrying this way and that. As William rode up, a huge, heavy overland coach pulled by two tired nags was driven in front of the building. Behind it came a groom holding a very pretty chestnut mare and a serviceable bay.

William took one look at the coach and had a sinking feeling. “What is this?” he asked one of the ostlers driving the coach.

“The possessions of Miss Nelson,” the driver said. He glanced around and then confided, “It’s nothing but books.” He spit on the ground.

William had nothing against books. He was quite a reader himself. But he could not make good time to Lisbon with this overladen coach.

“Are you my escort?” a woman’s imperial voice asked from the headquarters doorway. “You did not allow very much time for myself or Lilly to prepare.”

Turning, William found himself face-to-face with Bookworm Pippa. She was not what he’d expected. He’d pictured her a lean, shriveled spinster.

Instead, he faced a petite, brown-eyed redhead with an abundance of freckles over her nose and cheeks. She wore a dashing green riding habit and a wide-brimmed hat set at a jaunty angle.

Lilly was obviously the name of her maid. She, too, was dressed to ride.

William bowed. “I am Captain William Duroy of the Seventh Light Dragoons. I am to be your escort, Miss Nelson.”

She looked William up and down with the expression one usually reserved for rat catchers. It was a novel experience for him. A woman had never reacted to him in that manner.

Instead of being insulted, he found himself amused.

“I do not go willingly,” she announced with all the martyred drama of an actress on the stage.

“Neither do I, my lady,” William said candidly.

Her lips parted in surprise. “Then don’t take me,” she said.

“We both have orders and very little choice. Shall we make the best of matters, Miss Nelson?”

Her expressive brows came together. “What if I chose not to go? What if I stayed right here and waited for my father? He expects me to be here.”

William was aware that many were listening to this exchange. He had no doubt that Miss Nelson with her high-handed ways had created a good deal of uproar in a military headquarters. She was a lovely woman but seemingly unaware of her allure. There was too much combativeness in her stance, like a horse that had been mistreated and now expected the worst.

He found himself wondering what, or who, had hurt her to make her so distrustful.

Or what sort of man would go off and leave his daughter in a military encampment?

However, he was not in the mood to cure Miss Nelson of her problems. Keeping his voice pleasant, he said, “Then I would have to pick you up and carry you to that coach.”

A hint of challenge came to her eyes. “You would not dare.”

“I have orders, Miss Nelson. I most certainly would.”

She took his measure, and then said, “I’m not riding in the coach. I shall ride.”

“Excellent,” William said. “I was going to order the books removed from the vehicle anyway.”

“No. My books will come with me. They go everywhere I go.”

“Except this time,” William said, putting steel in his voice. “We must make good time to Lisbon.”

“They go or I will
not
go,” she replied, throwing down the gauntlet.

William felt his temper rise. “That is not an option.” He turned to the driver. “Take the coach away. See that Miss Nelson’s books are stored someplace safe—”

“There is no place safe,” she interrupted him. “The French are coming.”

“The French don’t want your books. The command will see they are stored.”

Her gloved hands formed fists. “I have collected these books over years. They are invaluable to me.”

“Your life is invaluable to me,” William answered. “Do as I say,” he said to the driver. “Have a horse prepared with the ladies’ possessions. Make it a good one. We have a hard ride ahead of us.”

“Stay where you are,” Miss Nelson said to the ostlers who had moved forward to obey William. They ignored her and followed his instructions.

William felt satisfaction, until he noticed the tears welling in Miss Nelson’s eyes. He understood all too well just how frustrating it was to not have control over one’s fate.

She reached and swiped the tears away, her stubborn chin rising. Only then did she see that he’d noticed. She scowled her opinion of him and went over to mount her horse with the help of a groom. He was not surprised to see she would be riding the chestnut.

William told himself he shouldn’t be concerned about Miss Nelson. She was merely being head-strong. He would make Lisbon and back in time to fight. He would.

He just wished he hadn’t seen her tears, because he had a feeling she was not the sort to give up easily.

And if Medford had planned to make William pay for his sins, he could not have found a better way than by saddling him with Miss Pippa Nelson.