To Wed and Protect

Admiration for her fluttered through him, and he became aware of several things at once, like the fact that Abby’s sweet scent filled the room and that she was clad in only a pale, frilly nightgown.

He had an overwhelming desire to learn every inch of her. His body reacted to his thoughts, filling with a tension that seemed unbearable.

But it was a tension he wouldn’t, couldn’t, follow through on.

And in that instant, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. It wouldn’t solve the problem, but it just might give Abby a fighting chance.

“Abby.” He stood and faced her. “Marry me.”

Dear Reader,

Happy New Year! And happy reading, too—starting with the wonderful Ruth Langan and Return of the Prodigal Son, the latest in her newest miniseries, THE LASSITER LAW. When this burned-out ex-agent comes home looking for some R and R, what he finds instead is a beautiful widow with irresistible children and a heart ready for love. His love.

This is also the month when we set out on a twelve-book adventure called ROMANCING THE CROWN. Linda Turner starts things off with The Man Who Would Be King. Return with her to the island kingdom of Montebello, where lives—and hearts—are about to be changed forever.

The rest of the month is terrific, too. Kylie Brant’s CHARMED AND DANGEROUS concludes with Hard To Tame, Carla Cassidy continues THE DELANEY HEIRS with To Wed and Protect, Debra Cowan offers a hero who knows the heroine is Still the One, and Monica McLean tells us The Nanny’s Secret. And, of course, we’ll be back next month with six more of the best and most exciting romances around.

Enjoy!

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

To Wed and Protect

Carla Cassidy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CARLA CASSIDY

has written over forty books for Silhouette. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance, and in 1998, she won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series, both from Romantic Times Magazine.

Carla believes the only thing better than a good book to read is a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 1

The place looked as if it had been abandoned for years, but Luke knew it had only stood empty for a little less than a year. However, before abandonment the house and surrounding acreage had been owned by a cantankerous, eccentric old man who, rumor had it, had believed himself from the planet Zutar and spent most of his time attempting to contact fellow space creatures.

But Zutarian Arthur Graham had died almost a year earlier, and as far as Luke Delaney knew, the ramshackle house had not been entered since.

The early morning sun beat relentlessly on Luke’s head as he got out of his car and approached the front door. If not for the car sitting out front, Luke would have assumed the house was still vacant. There were certainly no signs of life and no indication that any work at all had been done to make the house look more inviting.

The wood on the house was weathered to a dull gray, and thick weeds choked the path that led to a dangerously sagging front porch.

Luke had received a call the day before from a Mrs. Abigail Graham, asking if he’d be interested in meeting her here first thing this morning to discuss some carpentry work she wanted done on the place.

He’d been surprised. First and foremost because he hadn’t heard any rumors that anyone had moved into the old Graham place, and usually the minute a stranger appeared in or around town, the gossipmongers went into action.

Luke had instantly agreed to meet with her, intrigued to see the interior of the place. After all, it wasn’t everyday you got to see the living environment of a space alien.

And he had to admit, he was equally intrigued to meet the woman who owned the smoky, deep voice that had called him the day before. That voice had instantly conjured up visions of a lush brunette or a sultry blonde and had reminded Luke that it had been far too long since he’d enjoyed the company of a pretty lady.

Of course, Abigail Graham was probably sixty years old and as crazy as her infamous relative, he thought as he stepped up on the front porch.

With his first step onto the wooden porch, it instantly became apparent how imminent repairs were needed. The wood was rotten, and a hole was just in front of the door, indicating that somebody’d had a foot go completely through the rotten wood.

He carefully maneuvered around the hole and knocked on the door. It was opened immediately. The woman who stood before him was certainly no sixty-year-old. With long dark hair cascading around her slim shoulders and framing her slender face, she was definitely on the right side of thirty.

“Abigail Graham?” Luke asked, noting that her eyes were the shade of spring…a soft, lovely green that shimmered like the sea in the bright sunshine.

However, one of those beautiful green eyes appeared slightly swollen, and a hint of a bruise peeked beneath makeup at the corner.

“Yes, and you must be Luke Delaney.”

He backed up as she stepped out and across the hole. “I’m assuming this is what you called me about?” he asked, gesturing to the porch.

She nodded. “I knew it was rather unstable but didn’t realize just how dangerous it was until my son’s foot went through it yesterday.”

That sexy voice of hers shot a new wave of pleasure through him. Looking at her certainly wasn’t difficult, either. Mrs. Abigail Graham, he reminded himself. A married woman sporting the hint of a black eye—and certainly none of his business.

“Was he hurt?” Luke asked, eyeing the hole.

“Thankfully no. His tennis shoe got scuffed and it scared him, but he wasn’t hurt.” She smiled, and Luke felt the jolt of that gorgeous smile deep in the pit of him, like that lick of heat he got when he took a swallow of good Scotch.

“Why don’t you come on inside and we can discuss the repair work,” she suggested. She stepped over the hole to the front door.

He followed her into the house and tried not to notice how sexy her shapely bottom looked in her tight jeans. The living room, although starkly furnished, was spotlessly clean and decorated in desert shades.

From someplace else in the house he could hear the sound of a television playing what sounded like cartoons.

She gestured him to the sofa, and he sat. “The man at the lumberyard said you were the best carpenter in town,” she explained. “He was the one who gave me your name and number.”

She perched on the edge of a chair facing the sofa. “So, what will it take to repair the porch?”

“I can’t repair it. It needs to come down altogether and a new one built.”

A frown creased her forehead, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. She had luscious full lips, and Luke wondered idly if they would be as soft and inviting as they looked.

“How much is all this going to cost?” she finally asked with a sigh.

Luke stood and pulled a measuring tape from his pocket. “Why don’t we go out and get some measurements, then I can give you an estimate.” He had a feeling he wasn’t going to make much profit on this job.

It was obvious that money was an issue. Anyone who chose to live in this ramshackle place had to have made the decision because they couldn’t afford anything better.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” She got up, hurried down the hallway and disappeared into the first doorway on the right.

Luke once again looked around the room. On second glance, he saw the work that needed to be done. Windowsills needed to be refinished or painted. The hardwood floor was scuffed and worn. But those things were cosmetic. The rotten porch was something different. She was lucky nobody had been seriously hurt on it.

She returned from the bedroom and they gingerly stepped out on the rotten porch. “This is a bad accident waiting to happen,” he said as they stepped off the porch. “If you have me build you a new one, would you want it to be the same size?”

He watched as she gazed at the porch thoughtfully. Lordy, but she was pretty. Her clear, creamy skin looked soft and touchable, and her dark hair was a perfect foil for her startling green eyes.

“It’s a pretty good size, isn’t it?” she said thoughtfully.

“Sure,” he agreed. “It’s big enough to hold a couple of chairs and a potted plant or two.”

“Then let’s keep the new one the same size.”

He nodded. “Let’s get the measurements.”

As she took the end of the tape measure from him, he smelled her fragrance, a soft whisper of something sweetly feminine and clean. It was probably a good thing the woman was married. Otherwise she would be a huge temptation, and Luke was trying not to walk the path of temptation.

“How long have you been here?” he asked as he gestured for her to go to the opposite side of the porch.

“We arrived on Tuesday and have spent the last couple of days having trash hauled off. Apparently my uncle was a bit of a pack rat.”

Luke made a mental note of the measurement, then motioned her to the side of the porch. “Arthur was your uncle? Nobody around here knew he had any relatives.”

“Actually, he was a great-uncle, but I never met him in person.”

“That’s all I need,” he said and hit the button on the tape measure to retract the tape. “He was a bit of a character, your great-uncle Arthur.”

Her cheeks flushed prettily as she met him at the base of the steps leading to the porch. “Poor Uncle Arthur. My father used to say he was a bolt whose nut was screwed on crooked.”

Luke laughed at the apt description of the old man. “He was certainly colorful,” he agreed. “He sometimes showed up in town with aluminum foil antennas wrapped around his head, said he was picking up signals from space.”

She winced, then gave another one of her pretty smiles. “Well, I hate to disappoint the town gossips, but I don’t intend to take up where Uncle Arthur left off,” she replied.

Luke grinned. “Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of other odd people here in Inferno to keep the gossips busy.” He hated to think how often in the past he had kept the gossip mill busy.

“Where are you from?” he asked curiously.

“Uh…back east.”

He grinned. “Back east as in New York or back east as in East India?”

“Uh…Chicago. We’re from Chicago.”

Luke didn’t know exactly how he knew, but he was fairly certain she was lying. Her gaze didn’t quite meet his, and there was a hint of unnatural color to her cheeks that let him know she wasn’t being truthful. Again he reminded himself that the lovely lady was none of his business.

At that moment the front door opened. Two children stood in the doorway. The little boy looked to be about five or six, and the girl standing next to him appeared to be slightly younger. Both were dark-haired and dark-eyed, and each of them eyed Luke warily.

“Don’t come out here,” Abigail cautioned. “We’ve been using the back door since yesterday,” she explained to Luke.

“Who is he?” the little boy asked from the doorway, his voice slightly belligerent.

“Jason, this is Luke Delaney. He’s going to build us a front porch that we won’t fall through. And Luke, that’s Jason and Jessica.”

“Hi, kids.” Luke smiled at the two rug rats, but neither of them returned his smile. Their dark eyes continued to gaze at him with suspicion.

Luke turned to Abigail. “I’ll get some estimates together and call you with them later this evening.”

“That will be fine,” she replied and again offered him that beautiful smile that ignited a small flame in the pit of Luke’s stomach.

Yes, it was definitely a good thing Abigail Graham was a married woman with two children, he thought as he nodded goodbye and headed for his pickup truck. Although he found himself incredibly physically attracted to her, the fact that she was married with children assured him he wouldn’t follow through on that attraction.

The last thing Luke was looking for was any kind of a permanent relationship. Even if Abigail were single and available, she had that look in her eyes that told him she probably wasn’t a short-term-relationship kind of woman.

He dismissed thoughts of the lovely Abigail and her children from his mind as he pointed his pickup toward the family dude ranch.

Adam Delaney, Luke’s father, had passed away a little over five months earlier, leaving Luke and his three siblings as heirs to the successful Delaney Dude Ranch. However, Adam Delaney, who had been a mean bastard in life, had kicked his kids one last time in death.

He’d left them the family ranch with a condition attached, that each of them spend twenty-five hours a week working on the ranch for a year. If before that time any one of them defaulted and didn’t spend the required time there, the entire estate would transfer to Clara Delaney, Adam’s old-maid sister.

Although Luke had no real love for the place where he’d been born and had spent a miserable childhood, he wasn’t about to be the one to make his brothers and sister lose their inheritance.

His plans were to remain here in Inferno for another seven months, then when the inheritance was won, he’d sell his interest in the ranch, take the money and chase after his real dream of being a star in Nashville.

And there was no way that dream included a woman, children or anything that remotely resembled a long-term relationship.

“I don’t like him.” Jason was tucked into bed, the red Kansas City Chiefs sheet pulled up to his stubborn chin. “I don’t think he should be here. I don’t like the way he looks.”

Abby knew who he was talking about, and she also knew it had nothing to do with like or dislike. It had everything to do with fear.

Men frightened both Jason and Jessica ever since that night a year and a month ago…the night their lives had been irrevocably shattered, the night Abby had lost the one person most dear to her heart.

But Abby couldn’t think of that. She couldn’t dwell on all she’d lost because then she would be lost in grief. She and the kids were in survival mode now, and the only way to survive was to forge ahead and not look back.

“Jason, Luke seemed like a very nice man. I’m sure he won’t hurt your sister or you. Besides, we need him. We can’t live here if we don’t fix the porch.”

Jason frowned thoughtfully. “And if he fixes it we can live here together forever?” His dark little eyes pled with her for assurance.

“That’s the plan,” she replied and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “Now, go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow. We’ve got all kinds of boxes to unpack and maybe tomorrow evening we’ll go into town and eat at a restaurant.”

“And I can get a chocolate shake?”

Abby laughed. “If the restaurant has them, then you can get one, but now you need to get to sleep.”

Dutifully, Jason closed his eyes. After checking to make certain the night-light was burning brightly, Abby shut off the overhead light and left the room.

She went into the smaller bedroom next door where Jessica awaited a night-time kiss. Five-year-old Jessica smiled as Abby entered her bedroom. It was the bright, beautiful smile of a little angel.

“Hi, pumpkin. All tucked in?” Abby sat on the edge of the bed as Jessica nodded. “You didn’t eat very much for supper. Are you hungry?”

Jessica shook her head, and Abby wished for the millionth time that she could hear Jessica’s voice. Just one word. It had been over a year since the little girl had uttered a word, and Abby could no longer remember what her voice sounded like.

“Good night, sweetheart.” Abby kissed Jessica’s forehead, checked on her night-light, then left the room.

She went into the kitchen where she poured herself a cup of coffee, then headed for the sofa in the living room. Curling up on one end, with a television sitcom making white noise, she tried to make sense of the million things that were playing in her mind.

School had already begun, and she needed to get the two kids enrolled, Jason in first grade and Jessica in kindergarten. She hoped the school wouldn’t check too deeply into the medical and miscellaneous records needed for enrollment. She’d changed the kids’ last name to adhere to their new identity.

She’d done everything she could to cover their tracks, hoped that she’d made no mistakes. Coming here had been a risk, but she’d weighed her options and realized they had no place else to go.

Once the children got settled in school, she’d have to find a job, at least a part-time one. She hoped she could find something that would pay her in cash, where her social security number would not be recorded. She didn’t want to leave a trail that somebody might be able to follow.

But eventually a job would become a necessity. It wouldn’t be long before their money would be gone, especially with the unforeseen expense of a new porch. It was ironic that there were three trust funds sitting in a bank in Kansas City, each containing enough money to see them living comfortably for the rest of their lives. But she was afraid to access them.

Finding the television noise distracting, she shut it off then went into the kitchen to pour another cup of coffee. She was about to leave the kitchen when the phone rang.

“Mrs. Graham?” a smooth, deep voice inquired.

“Mr. Delaney,” she replied, instantly recognizing his voice.

“I’ve got some figures for you on building a new porch. Is this a good time?”

“Yes, it’s fine,” she assured him and set her cup on the counter.

As he spoke about the figures and dimensions of the deck, she tried to focus on his words and not on the sexy deepness of his voice. The man had a voice that was positively seductive.

The conversation only took a few minutes. She agreed to the overall price he gave her, and he told her he would have lumber delivered to her home and get started first thing in the morning.

When they hung up, Abby grabbed her coffee cup and headed through the living room and out the front door. Carefully stepping over the hole in the porch, she moved to sit on the rickety steps.

Night had fallen, and the silence was profound. The house was just far enough on the outskirts of Inferno that no city noise was audible. And that was good. The quiet would be good for them all. No ambulance or police car sirens screaming urgency, sounds that always thrust the children into their painful past.

She tilted her head to look at the stars that glittered against the black sky. Instantly she was reminded of Luke Delaney’s eyes. His eyes were gray with just enough of a silvery shine and with sinfully black lashes to make them positively breathtaking.

She set her coffee mug aside, wondering if it was the hot brew that was making her overly warm—or thoughts of Luke Delaney.

He’d definitely been a hunk, with his thick, curly black hair and those eyes with their devilish glint. The moment she’d seen him her dormant feminine hormones had whipped into life.

It wasn’t just his beautiful eyes, rich dark hair or bold, handsome features that had instantly attracted her. It had also been the lean length of his legs in his tight, worn jeans and the tug of his T-shirt across impossibly broad shoulders.

He’d filled the air with his presence, his scent, his utter masculinity, and he’d reminded her of all the things she’d given up when she’d chosen the path she was on.

She’d hated lying to him, telling him they were from Chicago, but lying was not only necessary, it was positively vital to survival.

She had invented a story for herself that she intended to adhere to. The story was that she was a widow from Chicago who had left the windy city because it held too many painful memories of her husband. A husband who, in reality, had never existed.

Sighing, she wrapped her arms around herself and for just a moment allowed herself the luxury of imagining what it would be like to be held through the night in strong, male arms. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what it felt like to have male lips touching hers in a combustible kiss. Oh, how she used to love to kiss!

She snapped her eyes open, recognizing that she was indulging in a perverse game of self-torture. Those days and nights of Ken were gone, lost beneath family tragedy, lost because he had turned out to be less than half the man she’d believed him to be.

Ken was gone from her life, and there would be no more men for her. The most important things in her life were the two children sleeping in the house where she intended to make a home.

Draining her coffee, she stood and went into the silent house. Although it was still early, she decided to go to bed. Luke had said he’d begin work on the porch early in the morning, and she was exhausted.

She entered her bedroom and stifled a moan as she saw the chaos. Since arriving here, all the unpacking had been done in the kids’ rooms, the living room and kitchen. Little had been done in this room.

Boxes were everywhere, and clothes spilled out of an open suitcase on the floor. The only items she’d unpacked were the sheets that were on the bed, her alarm clock that sat on the nightstand and a colorful porcelain hummingbird that was also on the nightstand.

She sank on the edge of the bed and picked up the hummingbird, the delicate porcelain cool beneath her fingertips. It had been a birthday present two years ago, given to her by her older sister.

“You always accuse me of flitting around like a hummingbird,” Loretta had said. “So, I figured I’d give this to you and whenever you look at it you can think of me.”

Abby’s vision blurred with tears as she set the figurine on the nightstand. She couldn’t think of Loretta. She didn’t have time for grief, didn’t have the energy for mourning. The best thing she could do was carry on, remain strong, and that’s exactly what she intended to do.

She undressed and got into her nightgown, then turned off the light and slid beneath the sheets. The moonlight poured through the window and painted silvery streaks on the bedroom walls.

The moon seemed much bigger, much brighter here in Inferno, Arizona, like a giant benign night-light chasing away the deepest darkness of the night. She hoped it would keep the bogeyman away.

As always, just before she closed her eyes, she prayed. “Please…please don’t let him find us,” she whispered fervently. “Please don’t let Justin find us.”

Justin.

Her personal bogeyman.

The man they’d been running from for the past eleven months. If he found them, then he would destroy them. If he found them, then all would be lost.

Chapter 2

For the thirty-sixth day in a row, Luke woke up stone-cold sober. He opened his eyes and waited for the familiar banging in his head to begin, anticipated the nasty stale taste in his mouth.

Then he remembered. He didn’t drink anymore.

He sat on the edge of his bed and looked around. There was no denying it, without the hazy, rosy glow of an alcoholic buzz, the room where he lived in the back of the Honky Tonk looked grim.