His Heart's Revenge (The Marshall Brothers Series, Book 2)

His Heart's Revenge

The Marshall Brothers Series

Book Two

by

Jo Goodman

USA Today Bestselling Author

Special Author's Cut Edition

HIS HEART'S REVENGE

Reviews & Accolades

"Goodman is a thoughtful and intelligent writer who can make her characters live and breathe on the page."

~All About Romance

Previously titled: Passion's Sweet Revenge

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ISBN: 978-1-61417-492-9

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Copyright © 2013 by Joanne Dobrzanski. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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Chapter 1

April 28, 1863-Washington, D.C.

"Mama, tell her to come away from the window!" Megan McCleary winced as her mother tightened her corset strings. The stiff whalebone stays made deep breathing a luxury.

"Whining becomes no one," admonished Mrs. Allen. "There. You're quite finished." She glanced at the window. "Mary Catherine, do as your sister says." When there was no response, Rose's soft, singsong tone became stern. "Mary Catherine McCleary, come away from the window. There's no need to gawk. He'll see you."

Instead of obeying, Mary Catherine flattened her nose against the cool window pane and peered down at the sidewalk. The narrow path to the house was partially obscured by a rose trellis and the mist of her own breath. She pulled back only long enough to clear the condensation with her sleeve.

"She's deaf, Mother!" Megan wailed. "Look what she's doing now! She's going to ruin everything!"

Rose Allen's mouth tightened. "And you're going to alert all of Washington," she said impatiently, her voice never rising above a harsh whisper. "Have a care what you say in this house. What if the colonel himself were to hear? We're not supposed to know he's expecting anyone."

Mary Catherine's forehead wrinkled at the mention of the colonel. Her tawny brows creased over a pair of large, expressive brown eyes. Anger made the shards of gold in them a little brighter. "I think he should hear," she said, answering in her sister's place. "He'd divorce you and we could go home." She finally turned away from the window and sat heavily on the bench beneath it. Her dress twisted around her waist and legs but she didn't bother to right it. Mary Catherine, in spite of the signs that she was on the precipice of womanhood, had a thirteen-year-old's disdain for posture and social grace. She swung her feet back and forth, liking the flash of her red patent leather shoes. "I want to go home, Mama. Back to Stone Hollow." She stopped kicking and lifted her eyes in appeal. "Please? Can't we go home?"

Megan covered the distance between herself and her younger sister in seconds. Grasping one of Mary Catherine's honey-colored braids in her fist, she pulled hard. "Ninny! Don't you care how you hurt Mother? You have to stop asking for what can never be. Stone Hollow is gone for us. Gone! Do you hear?"

"Megan!" Rose stepped beside the girls and gently removed Megan's hand from Mary Catherine's braid. "Finish dressing now," she told Megan. Rose sat beside Mary Catherine and placed an arm around her daughter's slumped shoulders. Rose's eyes were drawn to their reflection in the cheval glass across the room. They were a study in contrasts. Rose's skin was as pale as cream, her hair jet-black. Her younger daughter was a changeling. She possessed neither her father's red hair and flashing green eyes as Megan did, nor the striking Black Irish features of Rose's side of the family. Mary Catherine, with her golden fall of hair and faintly exotic slant to her eyes, was a lioness. The child didn't know it yet, but she was the beauty of the family.

Rose's cheek rested against Mary Catherine's hair. She smiled at her daughter's grave reflection. "You miss the Hollow, don't you?"