The Doctor Takes a Wife. Laurie Kingery

      

      “My dance, I believe?”

      “Are you sure you’ve danced with every other female in town, from the oldest to the youngest?” Sarah asked archly.

      He raised a brow, and in that moment she knew she’d made a mistake.

      “Ah, so you were watching,” he said, grinning.

      “I most certainly was not,” Sarah insisted. “I never sat down myself, except when the musicians took a break. I only just realized that you hadn’t made good your threat to claim a dance.”

      “’Threat?’” he echoed. “I believe I only requested a dance, as proof of your goodwill. And I was waiting for a waltz, Miss Matthews.”

      “Oh? Why?” she asked. Was this girl asking the daring questions really her?

      Again, the raised brow. “If you have to ask that, Miss Sarah Matthews, then it’s no wonder the South lost the war.”

      LAURIE KINGERY

      makes her home in central Ohio, where she is a “Texan-in-exile.” Formerly writing as Laurie Grant for the Harlequin Historical line and other publishers, she is the author of eighteen previous books and the 1994 winner of a Readers’ Choice Award in the Short Historical category. She has also been nominated for Best First Medieval and Career Achievement in Western Historical Romance by RT Book Reviews. When not writing her historicals, she loves to travel, read, participate on Facebook and Shoutlife and write her blog on www.lauriekingery.com.

      Laurie Kingery

      The Doctor Takes a Wife

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

       Before you start reading, why not sign up?

      Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

       SIGN ME UP!

      Or simply visit

      signup.millsandboon.co.uk

      Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

      But God has not given us a spirit of fear,

       but of power and of love and of a sound mind.

      —II Timothy 1:7

      To the wonderful people of San Saba County, Texas, and in memory of the real settlement of Simpson Creek, and as always, to Tom

      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

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      Chapter Twenty-Six

      Chapter Twenty-Seven

      Chapter Twenty-Eight

      Chapter Twenty-Nine

      Epilogue

      Letter to Reader

      Questions for Discussion

      Chapter One

      “You look very lovely today, Miss Matthews,” said the voice in an accent that was as far from the usual drawl Sarah heard around her as Maine was from Texas. She stiffened, schooling herself to assume a polite expression as she looked up into the blue eyes of Dr. Nolan Walker.

      A lady, she reminded herself sternly, did not make a scene in public, and most certainly not while standing in the receiving line at the wedding of her sister. Even if the speaker was a Yankee outsider who had no business being here.

      “Thank you, sir,” she replied in a carefully neutral voice, and did not quite meet his gaze. “May I present Lord Edward Brookfield, Viscount Greyshaw, the groom’s eldest brother, come all the way from En gland?” She watched out of the corner of her eye as the Yankee doctor shook hands with the English nobleman next to her.

      The men exchanged greetings.

      “And may I also present—” she began, intent on passing the Yankee on down the line away from her.

      Nolan interrupted her. “Miss Matthews, I was wondering if we might sit together while enjoying the refreshments?” He nodded toward the punch bowl and the magnificent quadruple-tiered wedding cake that Sarah considered the crowning achievement of her baking career. “I…I’d really like to get to know you better.” He had dropped the “g” on “wondering,” while “together” and “better” came out “togethah” and “bettah,” and yet his accent was wholly unlike a Southern drawl.

      The utter effrontery of the man! Hadn’t she already made it clear back in October, when he’d come to town to meet her that she Was Not Interested in being courted by a Yankee and a liar? He’d written her a handful of letters telling all about himself, except for the one fact that made him Unacceptable—that he was Yankee. She’d only found out when he’d come to meet her on Founders’ Day—right before the Comanche attack.

      “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” she said crisply. “I’ll be busy helping to serve the cake and the punch. Now—”

      “Perhaps a dance, then? I understand there’ll be dancing later.”

      She glared at him. “Out of the question,” she snapped. “Now, if I may be permitted to continue, you’re acquainted with Miss Caroline Wallace, aren’t you, the bride’s best friend?” She gestured to the bridesmaid standing next to her.

      She didn’t miss the surprised look Lord Greyshaw gave her, nor the sympathetic one he bestowed on the Yankee. Perhaps there would be a chance later, after the wedding, to explain to Nick’s eldest brother why a properly brought up young lady of the South did not encourage familiarity with pushy northern interlopers?

      Mercifully, the doctor now allowed himself to be handed on down the line. The next person to approach was Mrs. Detwiler, an elderly widow, resplendent today in deep purple bombazine. Sarah hoped the woman had not heard what had passed between her and the Yankee doctor, for Mrs. Detwiler was sure to have an opinion on it, likely one contrary to Sarah’s.

      But luck was with Sarah—the older lady had indeed missed hearing the Yankee’s words and Sarah’s tart replies.