Would-Be Wilderness Wife
The Kidnapped BrideDrew Wallin's youngest brother is determined to see him married - so he kidnaps Drew a prospective bride. Not only is Catherine Stanway beautiful, but she's a nurse who can help their ailing mother. Drew doesn't have time for distractions - he's too busy watching over his fatherless siblings. Yet he's drawn to this woman who carries loss and pain equal to his own.Catherine has traveled West to use her nursing skills to save lives, not to find a husband. She knows if she gives in to Drew's matchmaking family, she'll be risking her already bruised heart. But maybe it's time she takes the ultimate risk to win the groom she didn't know she wanted!Frontier Bachelors: Bold, rugged - and bound to be grooms
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The Kidnapped Bride
Drew Wallinâs youngest brother is determined to see him marriedâso he kidnaps Drew a prospective bride. Not only is Catherine Stanway beautiful, but sheâs a nurse who can help their ailing mother. Drew doesnât have time for distractionsâheâs too busy watching over his fatherless siblings. Yet heâs drawn to this woman who carries loss and pain equal to his own.
Catherine has traveled West to use her nursing skills to save lives, not to find a husband. She knows if she gives in to Drewâs matchmaking family, sheâll be risking her already bruised heart. But maybe itâs time she takes the ultimate risk to win the groom she didnât know she wanted!
Frontier Bachelors: Bold, ruggedâand bound to be grooms
âI think Iâve made myself clear. Iâm not planning on marrying. I have a calling, a vocation, and certainly one Seattle sorely needs. I intended to stay another day, but if you all canât understand my position, then perhaps I should leave now.â
Drew met her gaze, and this time she had no doubt the emotion flickering in that expanse of blue-green was regret. She felt it, too, just as she felt herself leaning toward him, as if her body vied with her mind as to where she belonged.
Beth spoke before he did. âNo, you canât go, Miss Stanway. Not until Maâs well.â
âYour mother is on the mend, Beth,â Catherine said. âThereâs nothing more for me to do here.â
Catherine waited for Drew to argue. She wasnât sure why she expected it. Some part of her believed him when he said he didnât wish to wed, either. If he truly did intend to court her or marry her to one of his brothers, he ought to protest her leaving. And if he actually cared about herâ¦
She shut that thought away. She didnât want Drew to care about her.
Because that meant sheâd have to care about him more than she already did.
REGINA SCOTT has always wanted to be a writer. Since her first book was published in 1998, her stories have traveled the globe, with translations in many languages. Fascinated by history, she learned to fence and sail a tall ship. She and her husband reside in Washington state with their overactive Irish terrier. You can find her online blogging at nineteenteen.com. Learn more about her at reginascott.com or connect with her on Facebook at facebook.com/authorreginascott.
For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united with his wife, and they will become one flesh.
âGenesis 2:24
To Joe Mullins and Angela Rush, real estate agents extraordinaire, who helped us find a house on the new frontier, and to the Lord, who makes a house a home
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
Dear Reader
Seattle, Washington Territory May 1866
âI need a doctor.â
The commanding male voice echoed through the dispensary of Doc Maynardâs hospital like a trumpet call. Catherine Stanway straightened from where sheâd been bending over a patient, fully prepared to offer assistance. But one look at the man in the doorway, lit from behind by the rare Seattle sun, and words failed her.
He carried himself as proudly as a knight from the tales of King Arthur her father had read to her as a child. His rough-cut light brown hair brushed the top of the doorjamb; his shoulders in the wrinkled blue cotton shirt reached either side. He took a step into the room, and she was certain she felt the floor tremble.
Finding her voice, she raised her chin. âI can help you.â
He walked down the narrow room toward her, the thud of his worn leather boots like the sound of a hammer on the planks of the floor. The blue apothecary bottles lined up on the shelves behind the counter chimed against one another as he passed. He was like a warrior approaching his leader, a soldier his commanding officer. Mrs. Witherspoon, waiting on a chair for the doctor to reset her shoulder, clutched her arm close, wide-eyed. Others stared at him or quickly looked away.
He stopped beside Catherine and laid his fingers on the curved back of the chair where the elderly Mr. Jenkins snoozed while he waited for his monthly dose of medicine. Scars crossed the skin of the massive hand, white against the bronze.
Up close, Catherine could see that his face was more heart-shaped than oval, his unkempt hair drawing down in a peak over his forehead. His liberally lashed eyes were a mixture of clear green and blue, like the waves that lapped the Puget Sound shores. The gold of his skin said he worked outdoors; the wear on this clothes said he made little income from it.
