His Brother's Fiancee

Finders Keepers: bringing families together

Isabella Trueblood made history reuniting people torn apart by war and an epidemic. Now, generations later, Lily and Dylan Garrett carry on her work with their agency, Finders Keepers. Circumstances may have changed, but the goal remains the same.

Lost

One groom. Emily Sutton is up to her ears in the final plans for her lavish society wedding when her fiancé informs her that he can’t marry her.

Found

A stand-in at the altar: her fiancé’s black sheep brother. Emily assumes Jordan Chambers has saved her from the embarrassment of being publicly jilted in order to salvage an important business merger between their families. But Jordan’s not motivated by family at all. What he’s always wanted is Emily, and he’s not about to squander his only chance.

“Why have you dragged me in here, Jordan?”

“I thought it might be a good idea if we got married tomorrow.” Jordan made the suggestion with a casualness that would have been entirely appropriate if he’d been suggesting that she might like to try out a new restaurant for brunch on Sunday.

Emily clutched the back of the nearest chair. Jordan had asked her to marry him. She was quite sure she’d heard him do that. Unless she was hallucinating. Was she? She felt her mouth start to drop open again, and she hurriedly closed it.

“I don’t think marriage would work out too well for us,” she said, trying to keep her voice soft and nonthreatening. She even managed a small, reassuring smile. When dealing with lunatics, it was best to be gentle. “Thanks for asking, Jordan, but if you remember, we don’t like each other. I have this quaint, old-fashioned dislike of men who sleep with other men’s wives.”

Dear Reader,

Long before I became a romance writer, I was an avid reader of all types of romances. I love Cinderella stories, and stories in which the heroine transforms herself from quiet, mousy wimp into a strong, sexy, achieving woman. Best of all, I confess to enjoying the marriage-of-convenience plot, even though it could be considered among the most artificial and contrived of romantic story lines.

In days gone by, women often found themselves in situations from which the only possible escape was to make a marriage of convenience. Consequently, authors of historical fiction can have a lot of fun playing with this theme. But nowadays, with endless opportunities open to most women, it’s much harder for an author of contemporary romances to dream up circumstances in which a woman might consider making a marriage of convenience.

Emily Sutton, the heroine of His Brother’s Finacée, is an educated, professional woman from a loving family background, and yet, she finds herself agreeing to marry Jordan Chambers, the outcast younger son of the upper-crust Chambers family. Of course, the temporary marriage of convenience soon begins to turn into a passionate affair of the heart, although there are a few obstacles to be overcome along the way before Emily and Jordan can have their happy ending.

I hope you find their story fun, and that you will enjoy this installment of the TRUEBLOOD, TEXAS series.

Sincerely,

Jasmine Cresswell

His Brother’s Fiancée

Jasmine Cresswell

Acknowledgments

Jasmine Cresswell is acknowledged as the author of this work.

Dedication

For Angela Naylor Candlish, who likes to read all the same books I do!

Trueblood, Texas

The Cowboy Wants a Baby Jo Leigh

His Brother’s Fiancée Jasmine Cresswell

A Father’s Vow Tina Leonard

Daddy Wanted Kate Hoffmann

The Cowboy’s Secret Son Gayle Wilson

The Best Man in Texas Kelsey Roberts

Hot on His Trail Karen Hughes

The Sheriff Gets His Lady Dani Sinclair

Surprise Package Joanna Wayne

Rodeo Daddy B.J. Daniels

The Rancher’s Bride Tara Taylor Quinn

Dylan’s Destiny Kimberly Raye

Hero for Hire Jill Shalvis

Her Protector Liz Ireland

Lover Under Cover Charlotte Douglas

A Family at Last Debbi Rawlins

THE TRUEBLOOD LEGACY

The year was 1918, and the Great War in Europe still raged, but Esau Porter was heading home to Texas.

The young sergeant arrived at his parents’ ranch northwest of San Antonio on a Sunday night, only the celebration didn’t go off as planned. Most of the townsfolk of Carmelita had come out to welcome Esau home, but when they saw the sorry condition of the boy, they gave their respects quickly and left.

The fever got so bad so fast that Mrs. Porter hardly knew what to do. By Monday night, before the doctor from San Antonio made it into town, Esau was dead.

The Porter family grieved. How could their son have survived the German peril, only to burn up and die in his own bed? It wasn’t much of a surprise when Mrs. Porter took to her bed on Wednesday. But it was a hell of a shock when half the residents of Carmelita came down with the horrible illness. House after house was hit by death, and all the townspeople could do was pray for salvation.

None came. By the end of the year, over one hundred souls had perished. The influenza virus took those in the prime of life, leaving behind an unprec-edented number of orphans. And the virus knew no boundaries. By the time the threat had passed, more than thirty-seven million people had succumbed worldwide.

But in one house, there was still hope.

Isabella Trueblood had come to Carmelita in the late 1800s with her father, blacksmith Saul Trueblood, and her mother, Teresa Collier Trueblood. The family had traveled from Indiana, leaving their Quaker roots behind.

Young Isabella grew up to be an intelligent woman who had a gift for healing and storytelling. Her dreams centered on the boy next door, Foster Carter, the son of Chester and Grace.

Just before the bad times came in 1918, Foster asked Isabella to be his wife, and the future of the Carter spread was secured. It was a happy union, and the future looked bright for the young couple.

Two years later, not one of their relatives was alive. How the young couple had survived was a miracle. And during the epidemic, Isabella and Foster had taken in more than twenty-two orphaned children from all over the county. They fed them, clothed them, taught them as if they were blood kin.

Then Isabella became pregnant, but there were complications. Love for her handsome son, Josiah, born in 1920, wasn’t enough to stop her from grow-ing weaker by the day. Knowing she couldn’t leave her husband to tend to all the children if she died, she set out to find families for each one of her orphaned charges.

And so the Trueblood Foundation was born. Named in memory of Isabella’s parents, it would become famous all over Texas. Some of the orphaned children went to strangers, but many were reunite with their families. After reading notices in news-papers and church bulletins, aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents rushed to Carmelita to find the young ones they’d given up for dead.

Toward the end of Isabella’s life, she’d brought together more than thirty families, and not just her orphans. Many others, old and young, made their way to her doorstep, and Isabella turned no one away.

At her death, the town’s name was changed to Trueblood, in her honor. For years to come, her simple grave was adorned with flowers on the anni-versary of her death, grateful tokens of appreciation from the families she had brought together.

Isabella’s son, Josiah, grew into a fine rancher and married Rebecca Montgomery in 1938. They had a daughter, Elizabeth Trueblood Carter, in 1940. Elizabeth married her neighbor William Garrett in 1965, and gave birth to twins Lily and Dylan in 1971, and daughter Ashley a few years later. Home was the Double G ranch, about ten miles from Trueblood proper, and the Garrett children grew up listening to stories of their famous great-grandmother, Isabella. Because they were Truebloods, they knew that they, too, had a sacred duty to carry on the tradition passed down to them: finding lost souls and reuniting loved ones.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

CHAPTER ONE

EMILY SUTTON’S fiancé caught up with her in the library of the elegant San Antonio mansion where he lived with his parents. Michael Chambers was normally blessed with a ready smile, but Emily noticed that today he looked somber, even a little nervous. How odd, she thought. Michael’s self-confidence was usually as vast as the state of Texas; it was one of the characteristics that had first attracted her to him.

“Hi, Michael, what’s up? You’re looking worried.” She was already running late for her appointment at Finders Keepers, but she paused in the doorway, her arms clutched around the massive three-ring binder that contained the complex details of their wedding arrangements.

Emily shifted the heavy weight of the binder from one arm to the other. There were moments when she felt sure the inauguration of the president of the United States couldn’t necessitate more paperwork than the elaborate wedding ceremony her mother and Mrs. Chambers had planned over the past three months. Her mother had loved every minute of the planning, of course, even though she and Mrs. Chambers both complained repeatedly that the engagement was much too short for them to put on a truly stylish affair.

Thank goodness Michael needed to have the wedding ceremony behind him before he embarked on his election campaign for governor of Texas, Emily reflected wryly. Otherwise she couldn’t begin to visualize what their respective mothers might have attempted. Importing the royal guards from Buckingham Palace, maybe?

Emily grinned, glad that she’d been able to make her mother so happy just by saying yes to all her fancy wedding plans. She leaned against the door, once again shifting the weight of the binder to her other arm. Michael still remained silent and she felt her first twinge of true concern.

“You look really worried, honey. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He didn’t respond and her stomach lurched with a premonition of disaster. “Michael, talk to me. Has there been an accident? Oh my gosh, is it one of my parents?”

“No, not that…”

“Is your dad’s heart playing up again? Please don’t try to cushion the blow—you’re just making me more scared.”

He shifted from one foot to the other, so ill at ease that his discomfort seemed almost feigned. “I can’t marry you,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “We have to call off the wedding.”

Shock momentarily paralyzed Emily. Then relief surged through her, leaving her knees feeling shaky. She suppressed a slightly impatient sigh. She’d noticed before that she didn’t share Michael’s rather cruel sense of humor, and she was too busy today to be tactful.

Glancing at her watch, she gave a weak smile. “Michael, I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to play games. I’ll see you this evening at five o’clock. Remember we have the cocktail reception for the bridal party and family members at your father’s club, and then we have the dinner for out-of-town guests right afterward.”

Compulsively organized as always, she opened the file and read out the column of arrangements that affected Michael. “It’s black tie tonight, of course. My parents are bringing me, so there’s no need for you to pick me up. By now, your brother should already have left for the airport to pick up your groomsmen who are flying in from Dallas. Harrison Turner and Carter Blayne. Those are the two groomsmen I’ve never met, if you remember. They’ll need transportation tonight, because they’re not renting cars for some reason. I have written in on my schedule that your brother will drive them to the dinner, but he hasn’t been pinned down on this, and you know Jordan is always a law unto himself. He may choose to cooperate, or then again he’s just as likely to blow off the entire night’s events.”

She snapped the ring binder shut, taking a calming breath. The mere thought of Jordan was enough to provoke a frisson of irritation so, with the ease of long practice, she switched her train of thought. “Oh, and if you have a spare second, you might go and say a couple of soothing words to your mother. She’s fussing about the dinner menu again, and Sidney is beginning to lose his cool.”

Emily managed a tired smile, although her prospective mother-in-law had been really hard to manage this morning. “Try to convince her that serving smoked pheasant appetizers simply isn’t an option at this point. She’ll have to be content with the ten varieties of hors d’oeuvres she’s already selected.”

Michael rubbed his forehead. “Who is Sidney?”

“Oh, sorry. I’ve spoken to him so often, I forgot you wouldn’t know. He’s the chef at your dad’s club.”

She turned to go, but Michael hurried across the room and grabbed her arm, interposing himself between her and the door. “Damn it, Emily, will you stand still for a minute and stop rattling off lists? I shouldn’t have allowed you to go on about all those arrangements.” He crossed his arms and stared at her with a touch of defiance. “I wasn’t joking just now. I can’t marry you. We have to call off the wedding.”

“Call off the wedding?” Once again, it seemed to Emily that the world stopped. Only this time it didn’t immediately start moving forward again. She blinked and swallowed hard, trying to bring her vision back into focus. “Not…marry me?”

Michael drew in another deep breath and shook his head. “That’s right. I’m sorry, but we have to call off the wedding. I just can’t go through with it.”

Panic froze her in midbreath. Michael was a decent man, her good friend. There was only one rational explanation for what he was saying. She gasped, frantically trying to suck in enough air to speak. “Oh, my God! You’ve discovered you’re suffering from some incurable disease!”

“No.” His manner was so brusque she knew he had to be hiding something terrible.

“Don’t try to protect my feelings—”

“I’m not protecting you!” Michael yelled. He lowered his voice with visible effort. “I’m fine, Emily, never healthier. But I can’t marry you.”

He was serious, Emily realized. Dead serious. Michael was just fine, except that he wanted out of their marriage. Her brain, overloaded with details ranging from the color of the table linen for the prenuptial bridal dinner—cream with centerpieces of yellow rosebuds—to the gifts for her six bridesmaids—specially designed gold pins from Tiffany’s—refused to find space for the unpalatable fact that the reason for all these elaborate preparations had just vanished. On a whim of Michael’s, with no reference to her wishes, the wedding was off.

It was now ten-thirty on Friday morning. On Saturday evening, in less than thirty-six hours, fifty important out-of-town guests and three hundred movers and shakers from the state of Texas expected to see Emily Sutton, heiress to the Sutton land development fortune, married to Michael Chambers, candidate for governor of Texas. Unfortunately, it seemed that half the bridal couple wouldn’t be available.

Moving with great care, Emily walked across to the antique burled-wood desk and set down the ring binder. The 150-page tome of meticulous planning had suddenly been rendered as useless as a dead battery.

“Is there some special reason why you no longer want to marry me?” she asked. Amazingly, shock had so stifled her emotions that her voice emerged sounding coolly interested rather than heartbroken.

“There are a lot of reasons,” Michael said vaguely. He shoved his hands into his pockets and paced the library, seeming to regain his natural confidence. “For one thing, there’s obviously no sexual spark between the two of us. I know we agreed on this marriage for practical reasons, but in this day and age, doesn’t it bother you that we’ve been engaged for three months and we haven’t found the time to take a weekend away and actually make love to each other?”

Now he noticed that they’d never made love? She’d been wondering for weeks why not. Emily flushed, touching her engagement ring. The four-carat diamond solitaire—big enough to make a statement, not big enough to be vulgar-suddenly felt heavy and out of place on her finger. Twisting the ring, she decided this wasn’t the very best moment to confess that she hadn’t made any sexual overtures to Michael because their celibate relationship had been a source of considerable relief to her.

She gave an explanation she hoped he would accept. “We have frantically busy schedules, both of us. I’m sure our sexual relationship will be just fine once we get around to it.”

“Once we get around to it?” Michael shot her an incredulous glance. “You’re attractive, but you seem to have almost no sex drive. When we kiss, it’s as if we’re friends, not potential lovers. That’s strange, really, considering-” He pulled himself up short. “Anyway, I know this marriage of ours was never supposed to be a love match…”

Wasn’t it? Emily wondered, no longer listening to Michael’s attempt to explain the inexplicable. No, she supposed she had to grant him that much. She’d been determined to make her marriage last a lifetime, and she’d promised as much when Michael asked her to marry him. But neither of them had exchanged vows of everlasting love. Neither of them had mentioned passion. They’d simply committed themselves to a relationship based on friendship, mutual trust and loyalty. The qualities her adoptive parents shared in their marriage. The very qualities Emily had always wanted in her own marriage.

Michael was amazingly good-looking, Emily thought, watching his lips move without hearing a word of what he was saying. She wondered why she’d never felt even a twinge of physical attraction toward him. She pondered this for a second or two, then dismissed the question as one that no longer held any interest for her.

Despite the fact that she had never lusted for Michael’s body during their engagement, she’d intended to be the best possible wife for him, and she’d recognized that included being an active sexual partner. Just last week she’d bought a sexy black negligee for their honeymoon. Surely that proved she was willing to do whatever it took to keep her husband happy.

Sex had always struck her as a significantly overrated activity, but she wasn’t neurotic about it. Damn it, she was not neurotic about sex. Just because she was more aware than some of her contemporaries that getting carried away by passion could have serious consequences, it didn’t mean she was a prude. She wanted children, she knew men liked to have sex on a regular basis, and she was quite sure she could learn to enjoy a modest program of sexual activity. That’s why she’d carefully selected a prospective husband who looked as if he’d know how to go about the whole thing tastefully, without the excessive panting and pawing she found such a turnoff.

Besides, she’d assumed that what she and Michael shared was something much more important than messy emotions like lust and desire. She liked Michael’s company, admired his achievements, and envied his deep family roots. Surely those were better—stronger—grounds for marriage than a physical attraction that was likely to burn itself out within weeks of the honeymoon.

Emily felt a spurt of betrayal when she thought back over the past three months. Michael had assured her numerous times that she was going to be the perfect wife for him, the ideal partner for a man burning up miles on the trail to the governor’s mansion. Only last week, after their dinner with Senator Drysdale and his wife, he’d told her that she was the sort of woman most political candidates could only dream of finding. Socially gracious, well educated, but never pushy, she burnished his image whenever they appeared together, Michael had said proudly. What had happened between last Wednesday and today to change his mind?

Emily realized she’d been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she’d given less than half her attention to Michael’s rambling explanation as to why he was calling off the wedding. In the end, though, perhaps it didn’t matter that she wasn’t much wiser about his motives now than she had been ten minutes ago. What could he possibly say that would justify such a crazy decision, anyway?

“I’m counting on you to help me come up with a reasonable explanation for this last-minute cancellation,” Michael was saying, in a jolting echo of her own thoughts. “Neither of us wants to provide any more fodder for the scandal sheets than we need. Our breakup is bound to be reported by the local San Antonio media, especially coming right before the wedding like this. If we’re unlucky, this is a story that could get picked up by the national tabloids. We can’t forget how easily my campaign for governor could hit a roadblock. I know I don’t need to remind you, honey, how important it is that we don’t do anything to derail my fund-raising prospects at this stage of the game. These days, if you can’t please the moneymen, you can’t hope to run a campaign.”

She winced at the endearment, but she could see he hadn’t even noticed the casual intimacy of the way he’d called her honey. Hurt made her angry. “Yes, I can see that your fund-raising prospects are your first priority right now.”

Michael gave no indication that he noticed the sarcasm dripping from her reply. “I knew you’d understand, Emily. I value your opinion, you know, even though I can’t marry you, and I sure would appreciate anything you can think of that would keep my campaign moving along on an upward swing.”

How about a swift kick in the pants, Emily thought wildly. That ought to give him some satisfactory upward propulsion.

“It’s vital for us to have some sort of plausible story to tell before tonight’s dinner,” Michael said. He sent her a smile that Emily found infuriatingly patronizing. “I’m perfectly agreeable to pretending that it’s you who called it off.” His smile deepened, then changed into a warm chuckle. “Who knows? If you’re seen ditching me, maybe that’ll increase my sympathy ratings with the women voters.”

“Or maybe they’ll all start wondering what I found wrong with you,” she said.

His worried frown instantly reappeared. “Damn! I was joking, but you have a point. Hmm…we’ll have to think about that some more. There must be some way for us to pull this one out of the hat.”

“Consult with your campaign manager,” she said, her jaw clenched. “I’m sure Jeff Greiff will have an opinion. He always does. After all, this is a political issue, isn’t it? There don’t seem to be many emotions involved.”

“You’re wrong,” he said, suddenly solemn. “At least on my side, there’s quite a lot of feeling, even though we both recognized this was pretty much a marriage of convenience. I really do care about you, Emily. It’s just that I need to be so careful—“ He pulled himself up short. “Anyway, thanks for suggesting I should get in touch with Jeff. That was a great idea, I’ll give him a call.”

“Sure. Don’t let me keep you.”

Her sarcasm finally penetrated Michael’s cloud of self-absorption. He had reached for his cell phone, but he put it down on the desk without dialing, his expression contrite and faintly ashamed. “I’m real sorry, Emily. But this will turn out for the best, you’ll see.”