“My kiss lacked something?”
His eyes widened. “You think my kiss lacked something?”
A little crease appeared in her forehead as she considered his question. “Well…yes.”
He sat up in the chair. “I suppose you’ve been kissed so many times that you instantly know a good kiss from a bad kiss?”
“No, I haven’t been kissed that many times, at all, if it’s any of your business,” she told him. “But the kiss definitely lacked…passion. Yes, that’s it. Passion.”
“My kisses have plenty of passion, I’ll have you know.”
Annie shrugged. “Perhaps you’re just out of practice?”
Well, he couldn’t argue with that. Still, it irritated him to no end.
“So, you’re sorry you kissed me?” she asked.
Josh’s attention turned back to Annie as she gazed at him, and instantly he knew he wasn’t sorry he’d kissed her. Not sorry at all….
Praise for Judith Stacy’s recent works
The Blushing Bride
“…lovable characters that grab your heartstrings…a fun read all the way.”
—Rendezvous
The Dreammaker
“…a delightful story of the triumph of love.”
—Rendezvous
The Heart of a Hero
“Judith Stacy is a fine writer with both polished style and heartwarming sensitivity.”
—Bestselling author Pamela Morsi
THE NANNY
Harlequin Historical #561
#559 THE OVERLORD’S BRIDE
Margaret Moore
#560 CIMARRON ROSE
Nicole Foster
#562 TAMING THE DUKE
Jackie Manning
The Nanny
Judith Stacy
Available from Harlequin Historicals and JUDITH STACY
Outlaw Love #360
The Marriage Mishap #382
The Heart of a Hero #444
The Dreammaker #486
Written in the Heart #500
The Blushing Bride #521
One Christmas Wish #531 “Christmas Wishes”
The Last Bride in Texas #541
The Nanny #561
To Margaret Marbury, my editor,
for your hard work and support.
To Judy, Stacy and David
for always, always, always being there.
Contents
Chapter One
Wisconsin
Summer, 1840
“Mind your own business.”
Annie Martin mumbled the words to herself, forcing her attention on the sprouting weeds stretched out in front of her. She was lucky to have this job tending the gardens at the home of the wealthiest man in the settlement. No, more than lucky, Annie reminded herself. Darned lucky. Even if she was seeing weeds in her sleep.
Even if she could hardly keep her mind on her own business and her opinions to herself.
The rich earth turned over beneath her hoe as Annie worked her way down the row of tomato plants. Her gloves, trousers and shirt were a little big—better suited for a man. Her wide brimmed straw hat protected her face from the sun. But nothing kept the sound from assaulting her ears.
The baby.
Annie’s gaze drifted to the rear of the big white house that belonged to Josh Ingalls, her employer. Windows stood open, letting the gentle breeze cool the interior. Curtains billowed. And the heart-wrenching cries of the baby floated out.
“Mind your own business,”