His Mountain Miss (Smoky Mountain Matches) Read Online Free PDF Page B

of her choice.
    Not Megan. She loved East Tennessee, the mountains and streams and forests. The peace and quiet, the fresh air and space to roam. To daydream. She couldn’t imagine being content anywhere else.
    She hesitated in the open doorway. “How about I ask him outright whether he plans to or not? That way your minds will be at ease.” And hers, as well.
    “Yes, do!” Nicole urged.
    “Only if he’s in an agreeable mood,” Jane cautioned.
    Lucian, agreeable? She didn’t expect him to be, not with her and the children invading his territory. I can handle whatever he dishes out. I have to. For the kids and the town.
    “I’ll see you both later.” She turned and headed out into the late-afternoon sunshine, soaking in the hum of life all about her. Birds chirping. Squirrels darting up and down the trees on either side of the lane. The breeze swelling through the tree canopy far above her head. Ah, spring. Her favorite time of year. If only it could last forever.
    If only Charles was still here. Waiting for her and the children with eager anticipation, his weathered face smoothing into a welcoming smile, the loneliness in his eyes fading for the short time they were there. It was highly unlikely that Lucian would welcome them. If anything, he would take himself off to another part of the house in order to avoid their presence. That was fine by her. Why wouldn’t it be? She didn’t care one way or another.
    However, standing on his front porch a quarter of an hour later face-to-face with the man, she realized that was a lie. Lucian Beaumont was not the sort of man who inspired indifference. Quite the opposite, in fact. The strong emotions he invoked within her were foreign to her experience. Sure, her sisters and cousins sometimes irritated her, but they’d never made her furious enough to want to punch something. And yes, she was naturally curious, but she’d never been driven to discover the inner workings of a person’s mind. And never, ever had she felt this crazy, inexplicable, overwhelming attraction to a man.
    Well, you’re just going to have to control yourself, because he is not hero material. Far from it.
    “Here’s your umbrella.” She thrust it at him, uncharacteristically flustered.
    He, on the other hand, appeared coolly poised in a deep blue cutaway coat and vest, a brilliant sapphire tiepin nestled in the folds of his snowy white cravat. Black pants and his Hessians completed the ensemble. Way too formal for the occasion and even for the town, but she supposed that was the way he was accustomed to dressing in New Orleans. And he pulled it off beautifully, she had to admit. Masculine and formal. In control.
    Except for the hair. There was no taming those luxurious, dark brown waves that insisted on falling forward to rest on his forehead.
    “Merci.” He stepped back to allow her entrance, his intense gaze sweeping her scooped-neck white blouse, full black skirts and wide black belt that accentuated her waist. “Where’s your eye patch and wooden leg?”
    “Isn’t this enough?” She pivoted in the entryway and indicated her scarf.
    After looping the umbrella on the coat stand behind him, he settled his hands on his hips and appraised her appearance. “You need an eye patch. The wooden leg, not so much, but definitely some gold jewelry—loot from the legion of ships you’ve besieged.” Amusement shone in the depths of his eyes.
    Was he teasing her? Her palms began to sweat. “I’m, uh, fresh out of gold. Sorry.”
    “That’s too bad.” He tipped his head towards the basket dangling from her fingers. “May I take that for you?”
    “No, thank you.” She tightened her grip. She didn’t want him to discover the tea cakes now and forbid the children to have them. Better to wait until the book had been read to pass them out. He wouldn’t be around to intervene.
    “As you wish.” The amusement faded, replaced with a subtle knowing.
    His open scrutiny unleashed a flurry of