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The warm air smelled of horses and fresh straw. And lavender.
Wash half turned to her. “You all right?”
She nodded, and he climbed down and began to unhook the rig. She thought a smile touched his mouth. He was pleased, then, with their day’s work? Or was he pleased that his precious railroad could now roll its iron tracks over her farm?
Jeanne was weary, but not so much that she couldn’t feel the inexplicable pull toward the man who was now lifting her sleeping daughter into his arms. He paused at the door to her room while she unlocked it. Light spilled from the doorway, illuminating where she and Manette slept.
He entered as if expecting to be ambushed, then gently deposited Manette on the big double bed. When he straightened Jeanne laid her hand on his muscled forearm. He flinched the tiniest bit, and somehow she guessed he was weighing his reticence about her against his masculine need. That pleased her.
“You have been very kind,” she said. “You are a good man, Monsieur Wash.”
The oddest expression crossed his face, and in his gray eyes she suddenly saw both wariness and raw desire.
Lady Lavender
Harlequin® Historical #1027—February 2011
Praise for Lynna Banning
Templar Knight, Forbidden Bride
“Banning uses the exotic setting of Moorish Spain, troubadours, tournaments, politics and adventure in an engaging tale that will pique the interest of fans of the medieval era.”
—RT Book Reviews
Crusader’s Lady
“Marc and Soraya’s love story is touching, and the plot will make you wonder until the last page how they will get together.”
—RT Book Reviews
Loner’s Lady
“[A] poignant tale of a woman’s coming of age.”
—RT Book Reviews
The Ranger and the Redhead
“[A] fast-paced, adventure-filled story.”
—RT Book Reviews
The Wedding Cake War
“You’ll love Banning’s subtle magic with romance.”
—RT Book Reviews
Lady Lavender
Lynna Banning
Available from Harlequin® Historical and LYNNA BANNING
Western Rose #310
Wildwood #374
Lost Acres Bride #437
Plum Creek Bride #474
The Law and Miss Hardisson #537
The Courtship #613
The Angel of Devil’s Camp #649
The Scout #682
High Country Hero #706
One Starry Christmas #723
“Hark the Harried Angels”
The Wedding Cake War #730
The Ranger and the Redhead #773
Loner’s Lady #806
Crusader’s Lady #842
Templar Knight, Forbidden Bride #914
Lady Lavender #1027
Look for another romantic ride
into the West from Lynna Banning in Happily Ever After in the West Coming May 2011
For my dear friend Susan Renison.
With thanks to Tricia Adams, Suzanne Barrett,
Kathleen Dougherty, Karyn Witmer-Gow, Shirley Marcus, Brenda Preston, and David Woolston
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
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter One
Smoke River, Oregon 1867
When Wash Halliday came home from the war, Smoke River gave him a hero’s welcome. The tattered remains of the marching band gathered in the town square wearing their faded green uniforms and once-gold buttons and blared “Hail the Conquering Hero” only slightly off-key.
His ears rang with the noise, and he felt it all the way down to his feet. He glanced down at the leather boots in which, a year ago, he had marched from the Union prison at Richmond all the way to Fort Kearney. Now, he was back in Smoke River.
Midsummer sunlight glanced off the tuba and Wash stifled an urge to duck; the flash of light looked exactly like an exploding mortar.
Thad McAllister, the graying band leader, pumped his skinny arms rhythmically up and down, up and down, but now Wash could hear nothing. A roaring noise bloomed in his head, rolled and echoed like thunder, and then a high-pitched scream began. He pressed both hands over his ears.
Stop. Stop. Behind his closed eyes the red-gold explosions began again.
“Havin’ one of yer spells, are ya?” his grizzled companion queried softly.
“What? No…no. Just can’t stop remembering.”
The sun-blackened half-Comanche furrowed his salt-and-pepper eyebrows. “Let’s get away from this headache powwow and have a drink. Saloon’s just across the street.”
Rooney was usually thirsty for some Red Eye about this time of day. Wash usually wasn’t. But today it was the other way around.
He waved his thanks at the bandleader and the two men marched through the crowd across the main street of hard-packed dirt. The hot afternoon breeze rustled the leaves of maple and poplar trees, already turning gold even though it was only August.
The buildings were sparse but well-kept. Livery stable, sheriff’s office, mercantile and two saloons. “Damn small town for a railway station,”