Wendy Douglas - The Unlikely Groom

“Were you waiting for me?” His voice cracked with a husky edge.

“No. But I knew you’d come.”

“Why?”

“You couldn’t resist the music.”

That haunting melody. “It…called to me.”

“I called to you.”

It remained dark all around them, but Lucas could see her eyes sparkle in the darkness. How was it that he could see her as clearly as though every chandelier in the room was lit, and yet shadow shrouded everything else?

Ashlynne—no, Ashe—smiled again, a sultry, knowing expression, and she scooted around to face him. “Why did you come down here, Lucas?” she asked, and he blinked. She looked—and sounded—so…patient.

“I heard you playing.”

“And that’s all?”

“No.” He reached for her, drew her upward. “Because of this.”

He hauled her tight against him and caught her mouth with his….

Shades of Gray

“A heartwarming voice and a story

about the power of love.”

—New York Times bestselling author Jennifer Greene

“Secrets, lies and revenge rule the day in this graphic

western drama. Danger mounts, passion flares, and lies

unfold as this stirring historical plays out

and characters evolve.”

—Affaire de Coeur

www.millsandboon.co.uk

With much love for my mom, Lenore Romey, who never

told me I should be outside playing instead of reading

a book, and in memory of my father, Wendell Romey,

the most patient man I’ve ever known.

And, as always, for Doug, who loves me despite

all the trouble I cause, who makes everything work—

somehow—and who has been known to offer that

special endearment only a writer can appreciate:

“Aren’t you supposed to be writing?” I couldn’t do it without you, darlin’.

I love you all.

Special thanks must go to Willie and Candy Seltenrich

for their willing participation in this book. Legs all

the way to heaven, Candy, and not one broken bone!

Also to Heather Mase for filling in as the

Paperwork Queen so I could finish this book and

to Kathy Hafer for last-minute proofreading.

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

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Skagway, Alaska, February 1898

L ife was hell. It had been for longer than Lucas Templeton could remember, and there was no changing it. He’d gambled everything to learn that lesson—and he’d lost as completely as any man could. But that was old news and not particularly interesting any longer. Not to him, at least, and it was nobody else’s business.

It was part of the past and that’s exactly where he meant to see that it stayed.

Lucas lifted his shot glass and eyed the fine, clear whiskey with some appreciation. The glass was cool and smooth against his fingers and the alcohol shimmered with the taunt of a familiar amber color. The memory of its smooth, distinctive bite offered the lure of forgetfulness…if only he would give in to it.

He didn’t doubt the whiskey’s ability to make good on its promise; tonight he drank the expensive stuff, available to any man who could pay the price…and he could. He, in fact, owned the whole damned shebang—or at least this shebang. He sipped the whiskey with an appreciation for which few men in Alaska seemed to have the patience and turned to survey his domain.

The Star of the North. Lucas smiled and nodded, satisfied by what he saw. It wasn’t much, not by most standards anywhere else in the world. For him, it was everything.

One of the first saloons in Skagway, he had built it at precisely the right time. He’d had little competition at first and had unwittingly built the Star’s reputation by dealing fairly with his customers and offering a reasonable comfort not often found on the frontier. Now, less than a year later, he continued to enjoy a particular success that few of the others had matched.

He’d often thought that those who’d come later hadn’t wanted the triumph—or needed it—nearly as badly as he had. He’d even accepted that explanation for at least part of the difference.

But what about the rest of it?

He didn’t know for certain, nor had he ever wasted much time trying to figure it out. That kind of thinking could only lead him back to the reasons that this saloon mattered so very much in the first place, and all that was better left in the past. He needed no reminder of the life he’d once led.

It was enough that this life compared in no way to the one he’d left behind.

No. He corrected himself with an irritable scowl and tossed back the rest of the whiskey. Not left behind. He hadn’t left a damned thing behind. Everything he’d had had been stolen from him and he’d simply walked away from the devastation that had followed. There had been nothing left, no reason to stay.

And while it was true that he’d never planned a life such as this one for himself, it would do well enough. His success meant that he could do as he damn well pleased. He never could have done that in his other life. If it could be found in Skagway and he wanted it, he could have it.

Well, he might not go that far. An inherent trace of humility, the result of his Minnesota upbringing, stopped Lucas before he got too full of himself. He twisted his lips into a parody of a smile and dropped his glass to the well-used wooden table where he sat, then gestured to Willie, behind the bar, for a refill.

Undoubtedly, he reminded himself, he was in a much better position than most of the men who had poured into Alaska seeking gold over the past six months. And while he would have no trouble covering the expense of his choice of diversions, the reality of affording something and actually having it were two different things altogether.

He wasn’t exactly sure how much he really wanted the things he could afford. It was damn sure that he didn’t deserve them.

What do you think, you’ll be tempting God again if you aspire for too much? scoffed an inner voice that sounded entirely too mocking for his taste. And if the question came closer to the truth than Lucas found comfortable, he chose to pretend otherwise. He had other things with which to concern himself, things more important than this ridiculous tendency toward indulging his overdeveloped sense of self-pity.

Right now, he should be concentrating on the Star and its needs.

Business had been off tonight. Not necessarily bad, just…off. The atmosphere had been fractious and Lucas had broken up more than one argument that had run closer than usual to turning into a real fight. It might have been the cold that had set tempers on edge; the temperature had plummeted of late, typical enough for an Alaskan winter but trying for those unprepared for it. The brisk north wind in Skagway only made it seem worse.

Or it might be something else entirely, like the latest outbreak of killings—one a day, some said. Lucas hadn’t kept track, but he had no trouble believing the number. Ever since Soapy Smith and his band of troublemakers had taken over the town six months ago, lawlessness had soared and mayhem had become the rule of the streets.