A Marriage By Chance. Carolyn Davidson
“Dearly beloved…”
The minister’s gaze swept the onlookers, then focused on Chloe and J.T., a small smile curving his lips. “We are gathered together to join this man and this woman in the state of holy matrimony.”
“Who giveth this woman…” the minister began, and before the words could be fully spoken, Chloe’s brother muttered the appropriate response and pressed her hand into J.T.’s palm. And then she was caught up in the beauty of words and phrases that promised to change her life forever.
She spoke her responses in a voice that barely trembled, heard J.T.’s own vows offered in dark, husky tones and felt the cool circle of gold surround her ring finger as he placed it there. His kiss was circumspect, brief, but warm against her mouth. His lips touched her cheek and then whispered words against her ear.
“You won’t be sorry. I promise….”
Acclaim for CAROLYN DAVIDSON’s recent titles
Maggie’s Beau
“A story of depth and understanding that will touch your heart.”
—Rendezvous
The Bachelor Tax
“From desperate situation to upbeat ending, Carolyn Davidson reminds us why we read romance.”
—Romantic Times
The Tender Stranger
“Davidson wonderfully captures gentleness in the midst of heart-wrenching challenges, portraying the extraordinary possibilities that exist within ordinary marital love.”
—Publishers Weekly
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#601 MARRYING MISCHIEF
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A Marriage by Chance
Carolyn Davidson
Available from Harlequin Historicals and CAROLYN DAVIDSON
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Too often we take for granted those people we live with, the people who make out lives full and rich with their presence. This writer cannot write without an atmosphere conducive to her emotional well-being. I am fortunate to share a home with the mother of three of my grandchildren. So, to Merry, my friend for many years, and to Erin and Kelly Jon, who keep me young, I dedicate this book.
But most of all to the man who makes my life complete: to Mr. Ed, who loves me.
Contents
Prologue
Silver City, Nevada
March, 1894
Three queens and a pair of deuces appeared before him, and Peter Biddleton all but licked his lips as his eyes flickered to the mound of cash in the middle of the table. It was a cinch, he decided. He had bet first on the three ladies, tossing in his other two cards, and watching as the dealer slid two more in his direction. Now he felt the thundering of his heart as the pair dealt him nestled beside the aloof trio of royal blood.
“Reckon I can bet,” he drawled, pushing in his last gold piece, watching as it rested against several more just like it, there where bits and pieces of cash lured him.
The dark-featured man across the table watched from beneath hooded eyelids, silent as he considered the cards he held. And then he placed them facedown on the table and nudged three gold coins toward the pot. “Got something you’re proud of, sonny?” he asked mildly. “It’ll cost you to stay in.”
Peter aimed a futile glare at the man who spoke. Tall, dressed in the well-worn garb of a cowhand, the stranger had walked with an arrogant stride across the floor of Molly’s Saloon only two hours before. He’d watched for long moments, then joined in the game already in progress. Now his dark, flat gaze focused on his lone opponent, the rest of the men surrounding the table watching with eager eyes the silent battle between the two men.
“That’s the last of my money,” Peter said reluctantly, glancing down again at the full house he was certain was a winner. It felt right. The cards were warm in his hand, the queens looking triumphant,