His Mountain Miss
A BATTLE OF WILLSNew Orleans aristocrat Lucian Beaumont wants only to sell his estranged grandfather's property and escape the backwoods of Gatlinburg, Tennessee. But a stipulation in the will brings him head to head with a local beauty. Megan O'Malley and the town must have access to the house.For the first time in his life the commanding Lucian finds himself at an impasse. Clearly the worldly gentleman doesn't fit in Megan's quaint Smoky Mountain town. But as she glimpses the man beneath the hardened veneer, she believes Lucian is here for a purpose. To heal his soul. And maybe, with Megan's help, to heal his heart. Smoky Mountain Matches: Dreams of home and family come true in the Smoky Mountains.
Читать His Mountain Miss онлайн беплатно
A Battle of Wills
New Orleans aristocrat Lucian Beaumont wants only to sell his estranged grandfatherâs property and escape the backwoods of Gatlinburg, Tennessee. But a stipulation in the will brings him head-to-head with a local beauty. Megan OâMalley and the town must have access to the house. For the first time in his life the commanding Lucian finds himself at an impasse.
Clearly the worldly gentleman doesnât fit in Meganâs quaint Smoky Mountain town. But as she glimpses the man beneath the hardened veneer, she believes Lucian is here for a purpose. To heal his soul. And maybe, with Meganâs help, to heal his heart.
Lucian trusted no one.
If not for his wealth and name, theyâd all be gone in a second. Heâd learned that the hard way.
What about Megan? The beauty seemed to radiate goodness. He could almost believe she truly cared about helping this town. Was it real? Or a clever act designed to make him lower his guard?
He resented this present circumstance that was beyond his control. As empty as his life in New Orleans had become, it was familiar.
Frustration surged. If not for this young lady, he wouldâve already put the house up for sale and be out of this backwoods town.
âLet me make myself clear, Miss OâMalley. I plan to do everything possible to find a way around that stipulation.â
Anger flashed in her eyes. âAnd let me assure you, Mr. Beaumont, I will do everything I can to fight you.â
He blew out an aggravated breath. He was beginning to wish heâd never heard of Gatlinburg, Tennessee. And Miss Megan OâMalley.
KAREN KIRST
was born and raised in East Tennessee near the Great Smoky Mountains. A lifelong lover of books, it wasnât until after college that she had the grand idea to write one herself. Now she divides her time between being a wife, homeschooling mom and romance writer. Her favorite pastimes are reading, visiting tearooms and watching romantic comedies.
I will turn their mourning into gladness;
I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow. âJeremiah 31:13
To my parents-in-law, Pavel and Julie Turon, who have brought such joy into my life.
Iâm blessed to know you both. I love you!
A big thank-you to my editor, Emily Rodmell, for all her hard work and dedication.
This series wouldnât be possible without you!
Contents
Chapter One
May 1881
Gatlinburg, Tennessee
âWho are you, and what are you doing in my house?â
Jolted out of her concentration, Megan OâMalley dropped the books she was holding, and they thumped to the gleaming wood floor. She twisted around to face the unexpected visitor whose voice she didnât recognize. Odd, she hadnât heard the doorbell. Mrs. Calhoun normally announced company.
The stranger standing in the parlorâs wide entryway was definitely not a local. Even dressed in their Sunday best, the men of Gatlinburg couldnât come close to imitating this manâs elegance. Glossy black Hessian boots encased his feet and calves. Muscular thighs stretched the dove-gray trousers he wore taut, and underneath his black frock coat, the silver-and-black paisley brocade vest hugged a firm chest. The snowy white, expertly arranged cravat at his throat resembled a work of art.
Nothing was out of place. No lint on his coat. Not a single speck of dust dared cling to the mirrorlike surface of his boots...which was why his hair seemed to her untamed. It was glorious hair, really, thick and lustrous and wavy, the dark brown layers kissing his forehead in a manner that must irk him so.
His eyes, she noticed at last, were watching her with marked suspicion. He did not look pleased.
His black gaze raked her from head to toe and back up again, his frown deepening at the sight of the flower circlet adorning her loose curls. Megan experienced a spurt of self-consciousness. In preparation for the childrenâs story time, sheâd dressed the part of a princess, complete with a flowing white gown and fingerless lace gloves.
Unsettled, she clasped her hands behind her back and adopted what she hoped was a casual smile. âHello, Iâm Megan OâMalley. You must be new in town. Is there something I can help you with?â
He didnât deign to answer. Instead, he surveyed the airy room as he stalked towards her, circumventing the wingbacked chairs arranged in a semicircle about a plush Oriental rug. Fit and athletic, he exuded an air of command. Of authority. He struck her as a man accustomed to giving orders as opposed to taking them.
A wrinkle formed between his brows. Haughty brows, she thought. His was an arrogant beauty, with razor-sharp cheekbones and a harsh jawline. His nose was unremarkable, medium size and straight. The fullness of his mouth and the small dimple in his chin offset the harshness of his features.
