Loving Katherine
Roan Devereaux Could Gentle Any Filly With A Look And A Touch - but Kate Cassidy presented a real challenge. With her coltish grace and mile-wide stubborn streak, she was more woman than most men could handle - and exactly what he needed. Men were impulsive critters, Katherine Cassidy swore, and Roan Devereaux had only proved that when he'd up and asked Kate to marry him!It was a crazy idea - but no crazier than the sound of her heart singing "yes" in reply… !
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Table of Contents
“Sweet stuff?”
Roan dropped his hands from her shoulders and gaped. “Is that what you call it when a man uses a plain little old word like honey instead of just callin’ you by name? Hasn’t anyone ever called you sweet names, Katherine?” he asked softly. “Haven’t there ever been any men hangin’ around, tryin’ to court you or just tryin’ to get your attention?”
Katherine spun back to face him, and her eyes were bleak. “Take a good look at me, Roan Devereaux! Do I look like the sort of woman men come to court? I’m sure not good-looking and I’m too plainspoken for most of the men hereabouts. What have I got to offer a man in his right mind?”
She was serious! By damn, she was! And here he’d been feeling like a randy, apple-cheeked boy around her!
Dear Reader,
In her second book for Harlequin Historicals, Loving Katherine, Carolyn Davidson tells the heartwarming story of an isolated farm woman who meets a man who is determined to overcome her mistrust and draw her out, despite her reluctance. Don’t miss this wonderful follow-up to her first novel for Harlequin, Gerrity’s Bride.
Claire Delacroix continues to delight audiences with her stories of romance, passion and magic. This month’s story My Lady’s Champion, is another captivating medieval tale of a noblewoman forced into marriage to save her ancestral home that will transport you to another time and place.
Whether you’re a longtime fan of Mary McBride or have just discovered her, we know you’ll be delighted by her new book, Darling Jack, the touching tale of a handsome Pinkerton detective and the steady, unassuming Pinkerton file clerk who poses as his wife. And be sure to keep an eye out for multipublished author Ruth Langan’s Dulcie’s Gift, the prequel to the contemporary stories in the Harlequin cross-line continuity series, BRIDE’S BAY.
Sincerely,
Tracy Farrell
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Harlequin Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
lives in South Carolina, on the outskirts of Charleston, with her husband, her number-one fan. Working in a new/used bookstore is an ideal job for her, allowing access to her favorite things: books and people. Loving Katherine is her fourth novel. Readers’ comments are more than welcome in her mailbox, P.O. Box 60626, North Charleston, SC 29419-0626
With grateful appreciation, this book is dedicated
to my agent, Pattie Steele-Perkins, who makes me believe in myself.
And with a heart full of love to my granddaughters, in
the hope that each of them will one day find their own special hero. To Erin, Rachel, Jennifer Beth, Sarah, Cherylyn, Karen, Jennifer Lynn and Ashley; and especially to Katherine, who was but a twinkle in her daddy’s eye when this story was begun. Grandma loves you all!
But most of all, to Mr. Ed, who loves me.
He’d been watching her for more than ten minutes, curiosity snagging him after the first glance. He’d meant to assure himself that he was indeed finally arriving at Charlie’s place, hoping to see the familiar figure somewhere about the corral or perhaps coming out of the pole barn. But the sight of the lone figure, kneeling in the garden patch, had caught his eye and he’d settled down to watch for a few minutes. Katherine. It had to be Katherine, he decided.
And as for Charlie, where the hell was he? With no sign of him about, he was probably out in a far pasture, checking on his mares. Roan Devereaux nodded his head at the thought and stretched out his leg to ease the cramp in his thigh, grunting his impatience with physical infirmities.
“Seen the time I could play statue for the best part of an afternoon,” he muttered, squinting against the sun, fast making its way toward the horizon. Lifting to one elbow, he disrupted the smooth line of his profile, the better to observe the woman who worked amid the hills of potatoes and the forest of tomato plants next to the cabin. She’d not glanced about or appeared to catch sight of him since he’d placed himself at the top of the hill just minutes ago.
The ride had been short, coming out from town. It was the days of travel before that had brought to mind the old injury he’d rather have ignored. His hand rubbed instinctively at his thigh and he frowned, his eyes narrowing on the woman who knelt less than two hundred yards away.
Even now, she blended into the garden, half kneeling amid the potatoes she’d been gathering, dropping them into a burlap bag.
Reaching for his hat, he swatted it against his leg before jerking it into place against the dark swath of his hair. The wide brim cut the glare of the setting sun, and his squint eased into a more leisurely perusal of the small figure below his vantage point.
