My Bad Boy's Secret: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (79 page)

Epilogue

A wrenching cry could be heard throughout the house. “Mariette, where have you put the baby’s rattle?” Hardy yelled up the stairs of their new ranch house.

“You are less than useless sometimes,” his wife said as she swept into the parlour and presented him with the silver rattle that Carlton Williams simply would not sleep without. Hardy moved to his cradle and began to rock it gently as he shook the rattle. In moments the wailing had stopped and Carlton was staring at the rattle as if mesmerized. A few minute more and he was fast asleep. Hardy brushed his hand gently over the copper curls on his soft head and relaxed at last. He pressed a kiss onto the tiny forehead and then moved to the cradle beside it.

“You my beautiful one, I will leave you everything because you are an angel,” he whispered to the peaceful sleeping form of his daughter Georgina.

“That is because she is a Daddy’s girl. She is the very devil for me!” Mariette joked.

When Mariette had given birth to twins it had been a wonderful surprise. They had been over the moon to have a perfect family right from the start. But, that was before they had known how demanding two infants could be. Nonetheless they were both besotted with their tiny offspring, and doted on their every whim. They reasoned that it was impossible to spoil them while they were so young, would teach them to be courageous and self motivating when they were a little older.

Mariette had softened since becoming a Mama, but she was still his warrior. The newspaper continued to print stories that exposed corruption and wrong doing. She had convinced the townspeople of the merits of the co-operative, and following their recent experiences everyone had agreed with her. She would always be outspoken, and do thing her own way, and he was proud of her for not bowing down to anyone. In her usual fashion, she had managed to surprise him on their wedding day with a scroll of paper. He had unrolled it cautiously, having no clue what he would find inside. With Mariette you simply never knew what she would do next. He had been over the moon to find it was the deeds to a vast swathe of land that abutted the lands his friend Caleb ranched across. He had set to and built them a home, with the help of the co-operative straight away, determined they should be in and settled long before the baby arrived.

He often found himself wondering what might have happened to him had she not walked into the Saloon that day. They could so easily have missed one another. He could have passed through town and never have known he was passing up the woman he had always dreamed of. Instead he had almost been stupid enough to walk away even once he knew her. Never again. He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear.

“It was my pleasure, whatever it is I have done this time.” She sank down on her knees between the cribs. “Thank you my darling. These are the most precious gift, even if they do drive me crazy!”

“Now they are asleep, do you think I could entice you to join me in a gentle waltz?” Hardy asked his wife. He had never been a dancer before, but Mariette had insisted he learn so he wouldn’t be the only man not dancing at his own wedding party. He’d discovered he was rather good at it, and he loved being able to hold his wife so close.

“I’d be delighted, sing something beautiful to me as we do,” she said with a grin. Hardy had the world’s worst singing voice.

“If we don’t want to wake the twins, I think it might be best if you do the singing my love.” Mariette swayed gracefully into his arms, and he began to twirl her around the spacious room. “I do love dancing with you Mrs Williams, and I do love more than anything.”

“Well Hardy, I’d love to say I feel the same way, but I’, afraid you are on an equal footing with those monsters over there, but there is only one man who makes my heart pound so,” as she spoke she took his hand and laid it on her breast. He could feel her heart hammering beneath his fingers. He kissed her throat and felt it increase its pace.

“I say Mrs Williams, are you sure you are quite well?” he teased

“I’m not sure, maybe I need a little lie down,” she said with a wink as she moved towards the stairs, leading him up to their bed.

“Now that sounds like a rather wonderful idea Mrs Williams. A little lie down while they nap could be just what the doctor ordered.”

THE END

Annie and the Cowboy

Prologue

The coach raced through the night, the horses panting with the exertion their driver was pushing them to make. The carriage clanked ominously, the springs creaking with the weight. Nell Fitzpatrick clung to the seat anxiously. She had never been more frightened in her life. She was beginning to realise just how lucky she had been. She had heard the tales of hostile Indians, bandits and highway men, but never had any trouble of any kind. It had been twenty years since she and her husband, Tom, had decided to make the journey to South Dakota in pursuit of their dreams. Full of youthful exuberance they had come, their beloved daughter Annie just a baby as they took the long journey from Boston to Deadwood to stay with Annie’s Aunty Kitty.

Once there they had found that there were opportunities all over the region, but had chosen to settle in Silver City.  It was a mining town. Tom soon found work and their fortunes began to rise. They went to Church on Sundays, worked hard all week and were thrifty. Soon they had built a comfortable pot of savings and had purchased themselves land. Their determination made it successful and they became known for the quality of their pork and the freshness of their vegetables. Four more children had followed Annie: two boys, Matthew and Joseph; and two more girls, Margaret and Katherine. They were much respected, and Annie, with her warm brown eyes and chestnut hair, had even drawn the eye of the handsome son of the owner of the largest ranch in the Territory. Life had indeed been good to them all.

When word had reached them that Aunty Kitty was mortally ill Nell hadn’t hesitated. The journey from Deadwood to Silver City was always fraught with danger, the local tribes weren’t always friendly, but Nell hadn’t been about to let her poor Aunty Kitty be sick alone. She had tried for months to get the poor woman to join her and her family in Silver City, but the stubborn old lady was determined to stay in the house that her beloved husband, Aidan, had built them when they moved out West all those years ago. Nell could understand that, she knew she wanted to die in her own bed, with the memories of her wonderful family and all that love around her too.

“Ma’am, I don’t think I can outrun them,” the harried coachman called down to her. She had already been fiddling nervously with her rosary, now she began to pray in earnest. Her family needed her, surely the Good Lord would see that, would deliver her and the coachman safely back to Silver City. The sound of pounding hooves was almost deafening as the coach was finally surrounded and came to a halt. Nell took a deep breath and sighed heavily, ready to meet her fate whatever it may be.

But there was no whooping and hollering around the coach, just a strange and eerie silence. Nell knew that the local Sioux could be volatile, but it was rarer now. The groups that preyed on white settlers were often young hotheads. No, the bigger threat these days were the bandits who roamed the night, robbing coaches and taking whatever they could. But Nell had always heard tell that both tended to be loud and brash. This menacing quiet was somehow more frightening than anything she could ever have imagined. Then she heard heavy footsteps above her and the carriage moved a little as if someone was getting up onto the dashboard.

A quiet groan, and a dull thud broke the silence, and the carriage began to move once more. She could hear hoof beats and the odd nicker from different horses, so she knew the coach was no longer alone. There would be little point trying to escape. Her body was quivering with fear, and she felt icily cold. She kept up her prayers, fearful that they may want more than the money in her purse. But she was no wealthy matron, had little to offer anyone. Oh, they had worked hard, had built themselves a good home and built a respected business, but every penny they had, they ploughed them into the education for their children, or straight back into their farm. Though she hoped she had value to her loved ones, she was sure that any ransom demand bandits might make would be beyond their means to raise.

The coach finally pulled to a halt, and the door was opened. Nell was faced by seven men, all with dark handkerchiefs across their faces, hats pulled down over their brows. Even if she had known every one of them from childhood, she would never have been able to recognise them. “Mrs Fitzpatrick, oh dear. We weren’t expecting to find you in here,” the man holding the door said in an exaggerated drawl, presumably to disguise his own voice.

“Well, who were you expecting? The Pope himself?” she demanded angrily. She had always had more than her fair share of Gallic temper, and being the subject of what was clearly a bungled kidnap attempt had moved her past fear and into pure anger. The fact that they knew who she was, that she knew boys foolish enough to do such things made her blood boil.

“Well, I can’t rightly say,” the man she could only presume was their leader said. “But, suffice it say we mean you no harm.”

“Then you can take me home right this minute.” Nell had lived in America for most of her life, but her Irish accent was still broad. At times like this, when angry and impatient, she could hear her own Mammy back in Dublin spewing from her lips.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible right now. We need to go and find the right coach. But I assure you, Mrs Fitzpatrick, we will return you to your family in no time at all. Be patient, we aren’t bad people, we won’t harm a hair on your head.”

“Pah,” she spat. “If you won’t be harming me, then why bother to go to all this trouble to fetch someone else? Even if you don’t mean harm, harm usually comes from things like this young man. Don’t make me a promise you may not be able to keep.” She couldn’t even see his eyes, to see if her words had any impact on him, but he certainly didn’t say a word to betray if he was having second thoughts about his actions.

“If you could please come out of the carriage now, I’m afraid I will need to tie you up – just for a little while and keep you here. Then I assure you I will personally return you to your home.”

Reluctantly Nell did as she was told. There was no point in being difficult. She was outnumbered, and every one of these men was twice her size. She followed her captor to a small shack. It smelt of damp and was filthy dirty. She wrinkled her nose unhappily. He pointed her to a chair, and she sat knowing there would be no point in kicking up a fuss. Moments later she was alone, her hands and feet tied. She wondered who they had meant to abduct, what their purpose was – because their leader seemed to be far too polite to be some kind of bandit or highway man. None of this night was making any sense to her, but she knew somewhere deep within that she had no need to be scared. He meant every word he said, she was sure of it.

The dawn light streamed through the tiny, dirt-encrusted window and woke her gently from her slumber. She tried to stretch out a little as she took note of all the aches and pains. Her neck was stiff, her legs and arms too. The skin was raw where the ropes had rubbed as she had moved in her sleep. She tried to wriggle as many bits of her as she could, to restore movement but the bindings restricted her too much. She was thirsty too, her mouth drier than the dust in the air all around her.

“Hal, think we just may have us a lead,” a loud voice called outside. “Look, the stagecoach is here, buried in the bushes.”

“God damn you man, will you never learn to keep your mouth shut. Now if they are here they know full well that we are too, will come out all guns blazing,” a grumpy retort hissed.

“Don’t think they can be, look two sets of tracks, one in and one out. If they brought the carriage in and buried it here, only goes to figure they didn’t stick around.”

“Maybe, but what if they had been here, left and gone and got the carriage then come back?” Hal said exasperatedly.

“Well then the tracks going out would be under the ones coming in, not the other way around!” the other voice said triumphantly, obviously glad to have proved his tracking skills. If things had been any different, Nell might even have laughed at this comical duo.

The door opened cautiously and a young lad’s face appeared slowly around the door. He had freckles everywhere and his ears stuck out underneath a mop of ginger hair as bright as copper. “Ma’am,” he nodded at her. “Is anybody here with you?”

“No, they left me here last night. I don’t know if they killed the driver, or just knocked him out, but they realised they had the wrong coach, and disappeared.”

The lad had entered the shack and had straightened up. You could only ever describe him as gangly, he clearly hadn’t yet grown into his height. Nell could see the shining deputy badge on his lapel. An older, stockier man followed him. “Well untie her then you fool,” he said, frustration in his tone, and clearly written in every bit of his face.

“Yes Hal, sorry.” He stumbled towards her, and began to pick at the knots.

“Jed, here,” the Sheriff threw him a knife. Jed went to catch it, but it slipped through his fingers and clattered to the floor. “You okay Ma’am?” he asked her gently.