A Lawman For Christmas. Karen Kirst

to some young lady’s house to engage in what he did best—making women fall in love with him with very little effort.

      “I have news to share.” His breath created white clouds in the still air. “This afternoon, I received a response from the Pigeon Forge sheriff’s office. One of their banks was hit in the wee hours of the morning. The perp’s still in the area.”

      Freeing her braid from beneath her cloak, she set out for the cabin. Ben fell into step beside her.

      “How can you be sure it’s the same man?”

      “I can’t, not for sure. We haven’t had any robberies of this type—attempted or otherwise—for nine months or so. However, given our town’s proximity, I’m inclined to believe it is.”

      Ascending the stairs, she paused on the porch and curved her hand around the nearest post. “If I promise to be alert to any hint of danger, will you cease these unexpected visits?”

      He’d remained on the bottom step, bringing them on an even level. Mild amusement danced over his features. “Come now, there’s no use pretending you don’t enjoy our exchanges.”

      For a moment, she put his incorrigible behavior toward women and her poor view of men in general out of her head. Take away those obstacles and she could maybe see his appeal. Not only was he pleasing to look upon—a girl could get lost in those sea-green eyes—he also had an affable personality. He was well liked and respected by many in the community.

      “Surely you must know that a woman like me, whose own father engaged in flagrant indiscretions without a thought to what his behavior was doing to his wife and daughters, would never enjoy spending time with a man like you.” She felt as jaded as she sounded.

      His light mood vanished. Was that actual regret passing over his face?

      She’d never get to hear his response, because it was cut off by her sisters’ intrusion. Honor and Carmen were the epitome of Christmas cheer in their matching holly-red dresses. They’d each requested and received new fabric for their birthdays. They’d taken great pleasure in designing the outfits. Their excited chatter faltered at the sight of Ben.

      “Deputy! What a pleasant surprise,” Carmen gushed, testing the artificial flower tucked amid her brunette tresses. “Are you here to escort Isabel to the serenade?”

      Adjusting the half cape covering her shoulders, Honor turned astonished eyes on her. “You’ve decided to attend after all?”

      “Of course not.”

      Isabel eschewed most social gatherings. Why put herself at the mercy of others’ harsh judgment? As the daughter of the infamous Manuel Flores, her presence drew whispers and speculation about her character. Her sisters argued that it was her reclusive nature that fanned the flames of curiosity. She should make more of an effort, they insisted, allow people to get to know her. Then they’d see she didn’t have anything in common with Manuel besides his last name.

      “You should hear Isabel singing around the house,” Honor told Ben. “She has a lovely soprano voice.”

      “Is that so?” A new reserve held his charm in check.

      She imagined his pride had been wounded by her bluntness. He was accustomed to silvery praise and unwavering adulation. Ben MacGregor wouldn’t ever get that from her.

      “You should convince her to come with us,” Carmen exclaimed, clapping her hands. “The four of us can go together. It will be tremendous fun!”

      “I’m not certain my opinion will hold much sway,” he allowed, his enigmatic gaze locked on her. “You do work very hard, Isabel. How long has it been since you’ve done something out of the ordinary? An activity unconnected with this farm?”

      A rebellious impulse reared its head. Even she had to admit her life was a cycle of ordered routine. “I’d planned on spending the evening before the fire with a good book.”

      Carmen rolled her eyes and groaned. “You do that every weekend night!”

      Isabel refused to be embarrassed. It was no secret that she was a spinster by choice.

      “We get hot cider at most of the homes we visit. If it’s been a profitable year, Mr. Hatfield hands out sacks full of apples, oranges, peppermints and nuts. Laura Hatfield hinted this year’s been a good one.” Honor’s dark eyes gleamed. “It’s time for you to break out of your shell.” Linking their arms, she tugged her toward the door. “You could do with a bit of Christmas spirit.”

      “I’ll do your hair.” Carmen’s glee was undeniable. “You will wait for us, right, Deputy?”

      Isabel silently willed him to refuse. His slow-growing smile dissolved her hopes.

      “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

      Isabel’s mood plummeted. Not only would she be attending the serenade, but she’d be arriving with the most popular bachelor in these mountains. This night would be talked about for weeks, possibly months, to come. Her life’s goal to avoid attention had been thwarted by her interfering sisters and one highly vexing lawman.

      * * *

      “What do you think, Deputy? Doesn’t she look festive?”

      Hands in his pockets, Ben turned from studying the somber family photograph on the mantel and caught his breath. Carmen urged Isabel forward while Honor trailed behind, checking their handiwork.

      A dozen flowery compliments popped into his head. He suppressed them all. She would label whatever he said insincere, so he opted for a casual response. “Indeed, she does.”

      Her dress had been crafted of lush velvet, a deep green the color of a spruce bough. The snug bodice had a rounded neckline trimmed with ribbon and gave way to a swath of material falling in graceful folds to kiss the floorboards. Isabel’s hair had been swept off her neck and coiled into an elegant style. She was the epitome of feminine sophistication.

      Her sisters looked disappointed by his low-key reaction. Isabel avoided his gaze as she circumvented the furniture in a swish of skirts.

      “Are we riding or walking?”

      “I readied the wagon,” Ben said, joining her at the coatrack. While she tugged on her gloves, he retrieved her wool cloak and held it open for her. “I hope you don’t mind.”

      Isabel pursed her lips and, after the slightest hesitation, stood still and allowed him to drape the heavy garment over her shoulders. He took the liberty of fastening the clasps, taking a moment to breathe in her unique, feminine scent, a blend of spices and orange.

      Her gaze pinned his. “We’re going to create a spectacle, arriving with you.”

      “Yes, we will,” he concurred with a grin. “I’ll be the envy of every man there.”

      She brushed his hands aside and took a step back. “And we will be unpopular with the women.”

      “Only the ones without beaux,” Carmen inserted with a straight face.

      At the Johnson farm, the serenade’s starting point, he assisted the Flores sisters from the wagon and looked up to find a veritable sea of shocked countenances. Three wagons fitted with hay squares would take the group around to the appointed residences. Already some of the young people had found seats. Others conversed in clusters about the yard.

      Beside him, Isabel stood as stiff as a mannequin, braced for flaming arrows to descend. He could almost see her hatching an escape route.

      “Everyone’s staring.”

      He dipped his head close. “That’s because they’re as in awe of your beauty as I am.”

      Her dark gaze swerved to his in instant irritation. “Don’t start.”

      “Oh, look, there’s John.” Carmen nudged Honor.

      John Littleton separated himself from his friends. Taller