The Texan's Inherited Family. Noelle Marchand

at the edge of the woods. “Thanks to you.”

      His caught her elbow to escort her onto the path. “Aw, I just gave you a little help getting in the creek, that’s all. You would have jumped in eventually.”

      “Yes, but not quite so enthusiastically.” Her smile flashed in the darkness before she gave him a stern look she must have perfected on her students. “Is there a particular reason why you seemed to take such sheer pleasure in throwing me into that creek?”

      He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe I don’t like schoolteachers.”

      “What did they ever do to you?”

      “Plenty.” He tugged her onward, hoping his grim tone would put an end to her question. It seemed to have the opposite effect.

      She stopped and looked up at him. “Now I’m intrigued.”

      The last thing he wanted was to delve into that, so he angled a grin her way as he helped her around a fallen branch. “Truthfully, I hoped you would come out looking as messy as the rest of us. Of course, you didn’t. Look at you...prim, proper and perfect as usual. Not a hair out of place. How’d you manage that?”

      “Is that what you think I am?” She didn’t seem to realize that she was leaning into him to share what little warmth their bodies produced. Or maybe she was just too cold to care. “Prim, proper and perfect?”

      A rush of heat tinged his face. It was too late to take back his words, so he just shrugged. “It sure doesn’t seem like you’re the type to ever let down your hair.”

      They reached the edge of the woods, but she didn’t rush toward the cabin. Instead, she lingered with a hand on her hip. “I jumped in the creek, didn’t I?”

      “I thought you said I threw you.” He winked as she seemed to scramble for a defense. “I guess I was just wondering what you’d look like a little mussed up, is all.”

      “Is that so?” She lifted her chin along with her brow. “Well, I’ve been wondering what you’d look like with a haircut and a shave.”

      He ran a hand over his thick beard. “That’ll happen the day you let down your hair and enjoy yourself.”

      “Deal.” She released his arm and started fiddling with the fancy knot of hair on the back of her head.

      Alarm prompted him to take a few cautious steps back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

      “Letting down my hair.”

      “That isn’t what I meant.”

      “No, but it’s what you said, so you can’t go back on our deal.” She shook her head until her hair tumbled from its style then slipped her hand into her thick dark hair and teased it into disarray. “Is that mussed enough for you?”

      He stared at the dark waves of hair that framed her face and slid past her shoulders to stop at her waist. The only other woman he’d seen with her hair down had been his grandmother. She hadn’t looked anything like Helen. The schoolmarm seemed to capture the sparkle of starlight in her mahogany eyes while the glow from the cabin caressed her delicate features and stained her hair with a subtle dusting of gold. His hand reached out of its own accord to slide through the thick locks that were slick and heavy from their recent soaking.

      The sound of her breath catching in her throat brought him up short. Suddenly realizing just what he was doing and to whom, he extracted his hand from her hair and restored the distance he hadn’t realized he’d covered. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I had no right to do that. Guess I just wasn’t thinking.”

      She deftly twirled her hair and pinned it into a simple style. “You get that haircut and shave and we’ll call it even.”

      “You must think I need them awful bad to go through all this.”

      Her expression turned innocent, though her eyes were full of mischief. “Well, you do remind me a bit of a bear.”

      “A bear, huh?” He glanced toward the cabin as the door opened and Lawson walked out with a bundle of clothes in his hand. Quinn urged Helen into the clearing. “You’d better go on inside before you catch a chill.”

      She complied, greeting the bridegroom as she passed him. Lawson lifted a skeptical brow as he met up with Quinn and they walked across the field toward the barn. “Did you two get lost back there or something?”

      Quinn shrugged. “I caught her dawdling by the creek, so I rounded her up and brought her in.”

      “Well, don’t let her hear you describe her that way.”

      “What way?”

      Lawson’s eyes started twinkling. “Like a cow.”

      “I guess it did sound kind of bad.” Quinn grimaced as Lawson laughed and clasped him on the shoulder. How was he ever going to find a wife at this rate? Lollygagging with a woman he didn’t have a chance with then talking about her like she was a heifer. It wasn’t a good start. He needed more than just an expert on love like Ellie. He needed divine intervention.

      Being the last one into the tack room gave Quinn a moment alone to do what needed to be done. He bowed his head to whisper a prayer. “Lord, I might not be much and I may not deserve the finer things in life that other folks have, but I’m not asking for me. I’m asking for my children... All right, and maybe a little for me, too. Please send me a mother for them. Someone to be a helpmeet. That’s all I ask, Lord.”

      “Quinn, everyone else has gone ahead,” Rhett called through the door. “I’m going to head to the cabin. You’d better get your banjo out the wheelbarrow and come on.”

      “I’m coming.” Quinn finished dressing, then left the tack room. Rhett waited at the barn door jumping up and down to get warm while looking longingly across the field toward the cabin. Quinn found his banjo resting right where he’d placed it. Whoever had been in charge of gathering the noisemakers from the creek bank hadn’t been particularly careful in their treatment of his instrument. It had all manner of things piled on top of and around it. He pulled the instrument out only to find a stray piece of paper entwined in its string.

      “Quinn, hurry up, will you? Lawson said Ellie was making some hot cider.”

      “Aw, stop your caterwauling. I’ve said I’m coming.” Quinn tucked the folded paper into his pocket before joining Rhett. They ribbed each other all the way to the cabin, but Quinn’s gaze kept rising to the starry sky that stretched above him. He could only hope that God had heard the pleadings of his heart and see fit to answer.

      Fast.

      * * *

      Helen couldn’t believe she’d lost the Bachelor List. That thought, along with the chill in the air, sent her snuggling farther into her covers the next morning. Amy, the oldest of the three Bradley girls at the boardinghouse where Helen lived, had begged off from the shivaree with a headache then entrusted Helen with a secret note for Ellie. Helen hadn’t had any idea that note was actually the Bachelor List until she’d told Ellie about losing it at the creek. Hopefully, the matchmaker would have more success finding the list in the daytime than Helen had last night. She didn’t understand why Amy hadn’t just given it to Ellie herself later. Well, it was just one more thing that hadn’t made sense about last night—like her sudden attraction to Quinn Tucker.

      “Attraction” was the only explanation for why she’d lingered in the woods with him despite her drenched condition. But why would she feel that way? She’d been telling the truth when she’d said he reminded her of a bear. Just like the one she’d seen at the circus when she was a child; Quinn was big, hairy, arresting and more than a little intimidating. She couldn’t help but wonder how he ate without getting things lost in that unruly-looking mustache and beard. His hair was also overly long. However, there was always that indescribable something about a man with hair that nearly reached his shoulders that made her want to chase after him...with a pair of scissors.

      Raised