Dear Reader,
I had the honor of writing both the first and last books in the original MAITLAND MATERNITY series. While working on them, I got to know various members of the family pretty well and saying goodbye wasn’t easy. It never is for me, which is why I tend to revisit towns and families I’ve created. So when Silhouette Romance asked if I’d be interested in working on another MAITLAND MATERNITY story, I jumped at the chance. It allowed me the opportunity to get back with Megan Maitland, one of my favorite characters, and her family. And also to create new characters, as well. Working on The Inheritance also represented a new first for me. Despite all the books I’ve been fortunate enough to write, I’ve never touched on the subject of the older woman, younger man relationship. The pairing is getting more and more common these days, but for me, it was new territory to explore. So, for me, working on this book involved something old and something new. All we need is to borrow something blue and we’re all set for another Maitland wedding. Did you ever doubt it would happen? As always, I thank you for reading one of my stories, and from the bottom of my heart I wish you happiness and love.
Love,
“A pure delight…”
—Rendezvous
“…a charming storyteller who will steal your heart away.”
—Romantic Times Magazine
“Marie Ferrarella’s crisp writing style will keep fans on the edge of their seats.”
—Romantic Times Magazine
The Inheritance
Marie Ferrarella
To Patricia Smith
My Brand-New Guardian Angel Here’s to a Long “Guardianship” With Love Marie
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Chapter 1
The last thing Rafe Maitland wanted to see at the end of a long, hard day, spent mostly in the saddle overseeing the hundred and one things that went into running a smooth ranching operation for his boss, was a prim, proper-looking woman standing in front of his door wearing a slate-gray suit, sensible shoes and oversize glasses.
His annoyed gaze swept quickly over her. The woman was clutching some kind of briefcase.
Saleswoman?
As he walked toward her, feeling every one of the twelve hours he’d put in since before dawn, the ends of his temper unraveled a little more with each step he took. Never one to run off at the mouth, he was feeling even more uncommunicative than usual. He just wanted a long, hot shower and some time to himself before the evening had a chance to unfold in front of him. Half an hour by himself. Was that too much to ask?
Apparently so.
The woman looked like someone’s timid maiden aunt, right down to her brown hair, which was pulled back in what, in his book, amounted to a no-nonsense hairdo. A woman’s hair should be soft, flowing, Rafe thought critically. Tempting a man to run his fingers through it, not silently ordering “hands off.”
Who was she and what the hell was she doing here in the middle of almost nowhere?
If he’d had put in an order for a woman on his doorstep, it would have been the vibrant, curvaceous type. And soft, the kind of soft that made a man’s mouth water, not the kind of soft that indicated an untoned body.
Not that he had the energy for the former type of woman these days, he thought. Not with the hours he was putting in on what amounted to next to no sleep. He figured the sleep would come once he got used to being a substitute parent. And Bethany finally got used to having him around and stopped calling out for her parents.
That was the worst of it, hearing her crying the baby words in the middle of the night and knowing that when he appeared, it wouldn’t cause her to stop, to smile the way she had when either Lil or Rory had come to scoop her out of her crib. He was just her godfather, not her parent. But he intended to be much more. All he needed was a little time. And luck.
Rafe swallowed the weary, sad sigh that materialized out of nowhere before it had a chance to escape. He didn’t allow himself to display signs of weakness—even if he was ready to drop in his tracks.
His eyes narrowed as he arrived at his doorstep. The woman looked as if she wanted to flinch but was struggling not to. What was that about? Mentally, he shrugged away the stray bit of curiosity.
Nope, he certainly had enough on his plate without having to put up with any sort of an intrusion. Seeing her open her mouth, he stopped her before she could launch into some kind of a sales pitch.
“Sorry if they misdirected you at the main house, ma’am, but whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying, so you might as well leave.”
Greer Lawford gripped the handle of the leather briefcase she was holding in both hands a little more tightly as the word went through her. Ma’am. The polite address made her wince inwardly. It also made her feel a thousand years old instead of thirty and a great deal older than this handsome, rugged-looking cowboy standing in front of her. She was hot, somewhat irritable even though she was at the tail end of the long trip she’d been on since yesterday morning and, quite honestly, more than a little tense. She had no intention of being cavalierly dismissed, or even of accepting no for an answer.
Greer was, quite simply, on a mission. Sent by her employer, Megan Maitland, she had been told to do whatever it took to lure this somewhat larger-than-life specimen of manhood to Austin, Texas, and keep him there as the rest of the clan gathered together for what promised to be a huge family celebration.
And whatever Megan Maitland wanted, the matriarch of the Maitland family was accustomed to getting. Not because she was pandered to, or because of any supposed divine right of the moneyed class, but because Megan Maitland’s heart was always behind her requests and everyone took pleasure in making her happy. Greer was no exception.
That this latest request involved gathering together all the heretofore unknown factions of the Maitland clan under one large roof at one time just made Greer that much more determined to see it happen. She’d never had a family and felt she could be forgiven if she acted as though the Maitland family were her own. She had dutifully sent out all the invitations, but when Robert Maitland’s estranged branch of the family had not responded, she’d taken it upon herself to ferret them out even before Mrs. Maitland had said anything. She saw it as a challenge. Rafe Maitland, the youngest, had been her first target.
She felt her palms grow just the slightest bit damp. This was about Christmas, she told herself, the time for peace and goodwill toward men. Even somewhat hostile ones like this one appeared to be.
“I’m not selling anything,” she told him firmly, watching as he opened the door to his small ranch house. Very quickly, she scooted inside before he had a chance to close it. The interior was sparsely furnished, and what furniture there was, was dark, wooden and massive. It suited him, she thought. She