EXCERPT 1
Another thirty minutes passed, during which time Brant envisioned thick slices of smoky ham encased between fluffy biscuits hot from the oven as he worked. He was just about to suggest to Remington they take a break for the noon meal when a woman as pretty as any Brant had ever encountered breezed into the room carrying a large basket covered with a blue-checkered cloth.

“Denver! I thought I’d never find you in this colossus of a house. I saw Colin outside, and he said you were in the library, but so much has changed since the last time I was in here, I thought I might wander around lost until you starved to death.” The woman’s gaze shifted from the carpenter on the second floor, taking in Brant and Remington as they hastily stood. “Oh, hello.”

Denver scrambled down the ladder where he’d been working on the trim at the top of a bookcase. Brant was surprised he didn’t fall and break his neck the way he skipped the last four rungs, using just his hands on the sides of the ladder to slide to the floor. It was a trick Brant intended to have Denver teach him another day.

“Holland, I didn’t know you were coming today. I would have met you outside.” Denver glanced nervously from the young woman to Brant, and then back to the fetching female as he raced down the spiral staircase.

The woman shrugged. “We wanted to surprise you.”

Did Denver have a wife and children awaiting him at home in Silver Bluff? In the three years of Hudson House’s construction, Brant had gotten to know the names of every worker and thought he had a thorough mental list of those who were married and those who were not. How had he overlooked Denver’s family? Especially when the man had such an attractive wife?

Shiny brown hair she wore pulled back from her face, fastened with a ribbon at the nape of her graceful neck, fell in glorious waves to her waist. Freckles splattered a narrow, upturned nose. Her bottom lip, fuller than the top, rested in a natural pout that was most alluring. Her brown eyes snapped with intelligence and interest when they landed on Brant again. Her features were delicate and decidedly feminine, and she owned such a happy countenance, it made Brant want to smile just being in the same room with her.

Denver Drake was a most fortunate man if the woman holding a basket from which delicious aromas emanated was, indeed, his wife.

“Who might this be, Denver?” Brant asked, taking a step closer to the couple, curious and oddly interested in the answer.

“Holland Drake,” Denver said, taking the basket from the woman and giving her a slight nudge forward.

A wave of disappointment washed over Brant. So, she was married to Denver.

“My sister,” Denver continued.

The desire to raise his fist and cheer was almost more than Brant could contain, but he managed to tamp down his victorious feeling and school his features into what he hoped was a welcoming expression. The lovely woman was not married, at least not to Denver.

“Miss Drake,” Brant said, closing the distance between them and taking her hand in his. He raised her slender fingers to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand while holding her gaze.

Her eyes widened slightly, though he could see curiosity lingering there, and she quickly pulled her hand away. “I haven’t seen you working around the house before. Are you new?”

It was on the tip of Brant’s tongue to tell her the truth. To say he was the one who would eventually live in the house that had once been a dream scattered across multiple sheets of paper. Instead, he decided he wanted to get to know this woman, not as the owner of a fancy home, but as one of the many men helping to build it.

“I’m not new, but help was needed in the library today.” That wasn’t a lie, but the stark truth. He and Remington would likely contribute countless hours of physical labor if the house was to get finished by his own self-imposed deadline prior to his sister’s holiday arrival.

“Mister …” Denver started to speak up, but Brant gave him a brief shake of his head along with a warning look. The young man swallowed hard and nodded once in understanding. “Mr. Hudson is hoping to be able to use the library soon. It will also serve as his office, and he’d like it to be the first room completely finished. That’s why we’re all working so hard to make that happen.”

 

EXCERPT 2
“Sir, may I speak to you? Freely?” Denver swallowed nervously and twisted the cap he’d worn between his hands.

“Of course, Denver.” Brant clapped him on the shoulder, hoping to set him at ease with a friendly smile. “What is it?”

“It’s about my sister, sir. I understand why you didn’t tell her who you were, but Holland’s a bit on the feisty side and has a temper when riled. She won’t tolerate anything but the truth. When she finds out who you really are, I have a feeling she’ll be about as furious as a scalded bobcat.”

Brant considered Denver’s words while doing his best to ignore the smug look on Remington’s face. “I appreciate your sharing that with me, Denver. I have never seen a bobcat, scalded or otherwise, but I shall offer your sister a sincere apology and set matters straight when the opportunity arises.”

“That’s good, sir.”

Brant smiled again and gave Denver’s shoulder a squeeze. “Go on, and enjoy your evening.”

“I will, sir. Thank you.”

Remington waited until Denver left through the side door to turn to Brant and open his mouth to speak.

Brant held up a hand to stop whatever words of wisdom his friend prepared to spout.

“Before you start telling me what I already know, just keep your commentary about Miss Drake to yourself, Rem. I don’t need to hear it.”

Not when his own sense of right and wrong left him sorely convicted.

That night, as he tossed and turned in his otherwise comfortable bed at the hotel, a vision of Holland’s smile filled his thoughts. He owed her an apology for his deception and likely wouldn’t rest well until he delivered it.

If she was as feisty as Denver said, he hoped she’d accept it instead of delivering a well-deserved slap to his face.

 

EXCERPT 3
“Do I know you, sir? You seem familiar, although I can’t place the reason why.”

“From Hudson House. You brought lunch to your brother last week and graciously shared it with two hungry men who worked with him in the library.” Brant removed his hat and bowed as though he faced the queen, although when he’d met her majesty two years ago, he hadn’t felt the nerves jittering through his system that he currently experienced.

“You weren’t there that day. It was Denver, Mr. Monroe, and Alex …” Her voice trailed off, and she frowned. “Alex?”

“Brant Alexander Hudson at your service, Miss Drake.” He straightened, set the hat on his head at a jaunty angle, and hoped she wouldn’t see the way his fingers shook when he stuffed them into his pockets.

“You’re Mr. Hudson? The Mr. Hudson?” Holland’s entire face turned red, no doubt recalling the unflattering description of him she’d shared at lunch. He hoped she found him slightly more appealing than a balding, paunchy man with bad teeth.

He feigned a carefree grin. “None other.”

“I … you never said … why … but Denver …” She pressed her lips together, and her expression rapidly changed from confused to furious. “How dare you pretend to be a worker! What sort of game are you playing, sir? What do you hope to gain? Or is it just for your own perverse entertainment, pulling the wool over the eyes of the country girls too stupid to realize you’re a … a … cad!”

Brant held his hands in front of him in a mollifying gesture, but it only seemed to stoke her ire.

Holland stamped both feet and clutched her fists at her sides. “What are you about, sir? What could you possibly hope to gain by tricking me?”

“I didn’t intend to—” Brant spluttered as an overripe pear splattered against his chest and chunks of it flew into his face.

“Holland, please. Let me explain!” He ducked just in time to avoid a pear to his jaw. “Holland! Enough!”

She launched another pear, catching him on the shoulder as he rushed toward her. He managed to wrap his arms around her, preventing further assault with her hands pressed to her sides. He hoped if he held her a moment or two, she’d calm down. Instead, she struggled against him like a wild thing. He let go when she delivered a backward blow to his shin that made him wince.

“Stay away. Don’t touch me!” she said, jumping into the wagon and out of reach. She armed herself with two pears she grabbed out of the nearest basket and pulled back her arm, prepared to lob one at him.

“Please, stop. Listen. Just for a moment.” Brant held his hands up in surrender. “Then, if you feel inclined to continue abusing me with your pears, so be it.” Part of him felt as though he were truly surrendering to this woman. He’d been fascinated with her from the moment they’d met, entranced by her smile and laughter while admiring her pretty face and attractive figure. He’d sensed a kindness in her that day. A generous spirit given to joy. An intelligence and wit she didn’t try to hide.

Yet, seeing this side of her—full of ferocity and spunk, eyes firing sparks of indignation—only increased his desire to know her better, to know everything about her.

 

EXCERPT 4
“You look lovely, Holland. That gown is a wonderful color on you. Did you do something different with your hair?” Brant asked as he took her hand and led her toward the dance floor.

Suddenly self-conscious, Holland touched her curls to make sure they hadn’t slipped out of place. “Savannah and I helped each other with our hairstyles this evening.”

“You both are beautiful, but only one of you makes me want to spout poetry about a lady fair of face and full of grace.”

“Since I’m neither graceful nor fair of face with these blasted freckles, I will assume it’s Savannah of whom you speak,” Holland teased.

Brant swept her into the dance. “Hardly, Holland. It is you, dear girl, who captures my attention and my …”

He paused, and Holland willed him to continue, but he remained silent for the length of several dance steps. When he appeared to be struggling to find the words to say, she took pity on him and changed the subject.

“Tell me about places you’ve traveled. I heard Remington mention to Dulcie that you’ve been all over the world.”

“I have been.” Brant performed the dance steps flawlessly as though they were a natural part of him. Goodness only knew how many women he’d danced with over the years, how many he’d charmed.

Holland derailed that train of thought before it built any steam. What mattered was the moment, and it was here, dancing with Brant.