woman he wants to marry. She would have been his wife already if her father had not put a stop to everything by telling Lynnanne that the man she was considering marrying was a bastard and was beneath her station. He had promptly sent her off to a finishing school, and the next thing Luke knew, she was married to a prominent New York lawyer.
He had received only one letter from Lynnanne, expressing her sorrow at having to break off their relationship, but also expressing anger that he had not told her the truth. Before Lynnanne, and ever since, there had been no one, just a string of loose women and tavern whores. He had no doubt his own father had instigated the heartbreaking mess. The man seemed bent on making sure his illegitimate son never knew an ounce of happiness. But Jacques Fontaine could not stop him now. He loved Lettie MacBride, and he would have her for his wife. Surely Lettie was nothing like Lynnanne and would not consider herself above him.
He brushed at the suit, grateful that one of the women among the travelers had offered to press it for him. It was the only dress suit he had brought with him on the trip, realizing that where he was going, there would be little need for fancy clothes. Most of the clothing he had brought along consisted of denim or heavy wool or buckskin pants, sturdy cotton and wool shirts, deerskin and heavy wolfskin jackets and hats, boots lined with animal fur, as well as knee-high leather boots, the kind of clothes that would withstand riding and living in a rugged land with freezing winters. He would head into Montana with plenty of food, clothes, and other supplies, as well as an array of good weapons and the ammunition to use them.
He had everything he needed to get started... except the one thing he needed most. Lettie MacBride. He walked to the circle of wagons to see her standing in the distance with her brother and sister, her hair pulled up at the sides with combs, the rest of it hanging nearly to her waist in a rich, dark red braid. She wore a soft green dress dotted with yellow flowers, and it fit her figure fetchingly. He wanted to think she had worn the dress for him, but she had been so stubbornly evasive these last ten days, he couldn't be sure.
They were just outside of Julesberg now, and everyone had decided to do something to lift the pall of sorrow that had been hanging over them since burying Hester Nolan. A nearby farmer had welcomed them onto his land and was roasting a pig to share with all of them. The man's son played the fiddle with a flare, and now several of the emigrants, including Henry and Katie MacBride, clapped and danced to a fancy tune, skirts whirling around a roaring campfire over which hung the pig.
Dusk was growing toward darkness, reminding Luke there was not much time left. Tomorrow the MacBrides would keep heading south into Colorado. He had to convince Lettie tonight to stay with him and go on into Wyoming with the rest of the wagon train. She had been avoiding him, and he damn well knew why. She was trying to keep from having to answer a proposal of marriage. Ever since he'd talked to her father, she had found ways to keep from being near him, even staying in the wagon whenever he joined them for a meal. He was determined that tonight she would listen to what he had to say, even if he had to drag her off by force.
He drew in his breath for courage, headed across the clearing in the middle of the circle of wagons. Lettie MacBride had a stubborn, determined streak that made her a formidable challenge at times. It was the Irish in her. But, by God, he was not going to let her fend him off any longer. He ached for her. He dreamed about her. He loved Nathan, hated the thought of saying good-bye to the boy in the morning and never seeing him again. And he loved Lettie, more than he ever thought he could love a woman. He could not imagine any woman being better suited to help him realize his dream. She was not going to get away from him, nor was she going to let something she couldn't help keep her from enjoying the natural