Seth was still staring at her, and the least she could hope was that the muted light of the room was too dark for him to notice the way her cheeks blazed.
The fluttering in her stomach had her trying to re-route her thoughts. Rosemary was married to this man. He just wasn’t the father of her child. It was truly a jumbled mess—and now, unfortunately, Millie was right dab in the midst of it. She was here for the child’s sake, and would do whatever it took to keep Seth from learning about the baby.
He shifted his stance, leaning farther back, and the smirk grew to resemble more of a smile as Seth looked her up and down again. It was unnerving, yet she couldn’t think of a thing to say that might make him stop, nor slow the outrageous flutters inside her.
“Matter of fact,” he finally said slowly, thoughtfully, “I want to know the truth right now.”
She gulped—a nervous reaction she couldn’t have stopped if she’d wanted to. The flurry in her stomach turned into a heavy glob. “Oh …?”
“Yes, Millie.”
Every muscle in her body froze.
“Why are you here? Instead of Rosemary. My wife. Your sister.”
AUTHOR NOTE
Other countries have had their wild, rowdy or scandalous times, but only America can lay claim to the ‘Old West’—the vast, unclaimed land west of the Mississippi that held promises of change, beauty, wonder and riches. The American Frontier lured people westwards in droves, and I for one never tire of reading and writing about those brave, wonderful souls.
This time I bring you to the Oklahoma Territory, once known as the roughest place in the nation.
Major Seth Parker believes there is no place for women at Fort Sill. Besides Indian uprisings there are whisky pedlars, Mexican traders, desperados, horse thieves, cattle rustlers, prostitutes, and men just bent on killing. But Millie St Clair has no choice.
I had a wonderful time putting Seth and Millie's story on paper, and it is my sincere hope that you will enjoy their journey to finding happy-ever-after in the wilds of Indian Territory.
Cheers!
The Major’s Wife
Lauri Robinson
LAURI ROBINSON’s chosen genre to write is Western historical romance. When asked why, she says, ‘Because I know I wasn’t the only girl who wanted to grow up and marry Little Joe Cartwright.’
With a degree in early childhood education, Lauri has spent decades working in the non-profit field and claims once-upon-a-time and happily-ever-after romance novels have always been a form of stress relief. When her husband suggested she write one she took the challenge, and has loved every minute of the journey.
Lauri lives in rural Minnesota, where she and her husband spend every spare moment with their three grown sons and four grandchildren. She works part-time, volunteers for several organisations, and is a diehard Elvis and NASCAR fan. Her favourite getaway location is the woods of northern Minnesota, on the land homesteaded by her great-grandfather.
Previous titles by Lauri Robinson:
HIS CHRISTMAS WISH
(part of All a Cowboy Wants for Christmas) UNCLAIMED BRIDE INHERITING A BRIDE THE COWBOY WHO CAUGHT HER EYE CHRISTMAS WITH HER COWBOY (part of Christmas Cowboy Kisses)
Also available in Mills & Boon® Historical Undone! eBooks:
WEDDING NIGHT WITH THE RANGER
HER MIDNIGHT COWBOY NIGHTS WITH THE OUTLAW DISOBEYING THE MARSHAL TESTING THE LAWMAN’S HONOUR THE SHERIFF’S LAST GAMBLE WHAT A COWBOY WANTS HIS WILD WEST WIFE DANCE WITH THE RANCHER RESCUED BY THE RANGER SNOWBOUND WITH THE SHERIFF
Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
To my wonderful nephew Kris and his beautiful wife Vikki, who so graciously assisted in researching Fort Sill. All my love, and hugs and kisses to Evan and Bear! Aunt Lauri
Contents
Chapter One
1878 Oklahoma Indian Territory
Naked?
A bout of tremors attacked her knees and Millie St. Clair grasped the handrail of the train that had jostled her for miles on end. Swallowing hard and blinking, she hoped the scene before her might change.
It didn’t.
They were naked.
Leastwise from the waist up—a sight she’d never seen before—yet they milled around the railway platform as freely as others who were fully clothed.
“Ma’am?”
“Good heavens,” she muttered.
The porter took her arm. “Ma’am. Step down, please. There are other passengers behind you.”
“Oh, yes, of course, forgive me,” Millie stammered. It took considerable effort to unlock her knees and lower her feet to the metal steps and then onto the wooden platform, for all that skin was shocking. It couldn’t help but hold her attention. Fortunately, the porter, with a solid grip on her elbow, aided her the entire way.
He’d been a kind man, offering smiles and asking about her comfort several times since she’d boarded the Missouri-Kansas-Texas rail line back in Missouri. His elderly face, complete with bushy gray brows and deep wrinkles that reminded her of a garden gnome,