The following book sample is my newest, Destiny’s Desire, Prologue and Chapters 1 and 2.

Destiny’s Desire is a saga of several Sten children and, in specific, one daughter’s (Fanchon) unexpected love. Gabriel Freeman is a Union soldier who comes to town to see what a little girl he stopped from fighting years ago grew up. Instead, he finds a young woman, Fanchon, who captures his attention.

These chapters center on Fanchon and Gabe but also introduce other Sten family members, as well as the antagonist.

PROLOGUE

Gabriel Freeman stood on the corner watching the two youngsters argue. He wished he had siblings like that. Even though he was an only child, he knew enough families to realize that brothers and sisters had many disagreements, but he didn’t care. He would give almost anything to have a little blonde sister like the one squabbling with the redheaded boy.

Without warning, she punched her companion in the face. The boy knocked her into the street. She landed on her back, scrambled to her knees, grabbed his ankle, and pulled him into the dirt with her.

Gabe watched in disbelief as the pair wrestled. Then, realizing that neither was going to stop, he strode over to them. Wrapping his arms around the little girl’s waist, he pulled her off the redhead. She squirmed in his arms, trying to free herself. But Gabe tucked her under one arm and held her while he grasped the boy’s upper arm and pulled him to his feet.

“Let go of me!” the boy shouted.

“Not until you agree to sit on the boardwalk and settle down,” Gabe replied in his most fatherly tone.

The boy dropped onto the edge of the boardwalk and glared up at him. Finally, the girl stopped squirming. Gabe was glad, because he was starting to lose his hold on her. Resituating her so he could put his other arm under her knees, he sank onto the boardwalk beside the boy and set the girl on his lap.

Without looking to see if the girl was hurt, he scolded the boy, whose nose was bleeding, in a kindly tone. “How old are you, young man?”

“Nine,” he mumbled.

“Then you should know better than to fight with girls. It isn’t nice.”

“She hit me first!” he proclaimed.

“It doesn’t matter. A man never, ever hits a woman.”

“She’s bigger than me.”

“I don’t care. Now you apologize to your friend.”

“But she started it.”

“Apologize,” Gabe demanded, beginning to lose his patience with this youngster. “Then run along home.”

“I’m sorry,” the boy said before he raced down the street and around the corner where Gabe had stood earlier.

Turning his gaze to the child on his lap, he noticed that she stared up at him. Her blue eyes, as pale as her hair and skin, were wide with awe. Her medium blue gingham dress was only slightly rumpled from the tussle. He brushed off a little dirt then returned his gaze to her oval face. Her lips parted slightly, revealing the tips of a few new teeth growing in. He smiled at her, and she returned it.

This little girl was going to break a lot of hearts when she grew up, Gabe decided. She was the most beautiful child he’d ever laid eyes on, and she would only get more attractive as she matured.

But he needed to think of other things, like why he’d stopped the fight in the first place.

“And how old are you, pretty lady?” he asked.

Her face reddened, but she didn’t break her stare. “Seven. How old are you?”

“Sixteen. Don’t you know that boys don’t like girls who fight with them?”

“I don’t want him to like me, because I don’t like him.”

Startled by her speech pattern, which sounded older than seven years old, he stared down at her. This youngster knew exactly what she wanted and didn’t want, and she didn’t have any qualms about revealing her feelings. He hadn’t known that they made little girls like that. But then he hadn’t had a lot of experience with children, either.

“It’s still probably not a good idea to fight with him. Other men might see you—men you might want to like you. What would you do if one of them saw you fight and decided not to like you because of it? You might not get married when you grow up.”

She shrugged. “That’s okay. I don’t want to get married, anyway.”

Gabe stifled a chuckle, sensing that the little girl would only get angry if he laughed at her. “That will probably change when you get older. Then what would you do? Most boys won’t have anything to do with you if you’re going to fight with them.”

She examined him for a moment then jumped off his lap and stood before him. With a toss of her long, platinum braids, she straightened her shoulders.

“You don’t mind,” she declared. “In fact, I think you liked that I could take care of myself. I’ll bet you like it when a girl doesn’t let boys bully her.”

Gabe gasped in shock. How had she known that? But before he could reply, she said, “When I’m sixteen and you’re twenty-five, you’ll probably still think it’s good that I don’t let boys bully me. Right?”

“What I think doesn’t matter,” he said, a bit unnerved by such an insightful child. “Besides, you’re changing the subject.”

“No, I’m not. You said boys don’t like girls who fight, and you’re a boy who doesn’t care if I fight.”

“Hey!” a male voice shouted from nearby. “What are you doing with my little sister?”

Gabe released a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to answer—no matter how accurate she was. Scrambling to his feet, Gabe stood in the street beside the little girl. A boy about his own age glared down at him from the boardwalk. The teen had pale blond hair just like the girl’s, but his eyes were green rather than blue. He also had more color in his skin.

“She’s your sister?” Gabe finally asked.

“Just answer my question. Why are you talking to her? You’re too old for her.”

“He is not!” she shrieked. “He’s sixteen, and so are you. And you’re not too old for me.”

“Shut up, Fan,” the teen said sharply.

“She was having a fight,” Gabe replied, ignoring the child, “and I stopped it. I was just telling her that little girls shouldn’t fight.”

“No, you weren’t,” Fan corrected. “You were telling me that boys don’t like girls who fight. That’s different than telling me I shouldn’t fight.”

The teen laughed then proclaimed, “That’s my sister! There’s absolutely no arguing with her logic. And she’s only seven years old!”

“So she told me,” Gabe said.

“I’d hate to be the man to marry her,” the teen said as though Gabe hadn’t responded. “She would be the one to wear the pants in that family, because her husband won’t be able to contradict her without looking foolish.”

“You know I’m not getting married,” she proclaimed.

“Oh, you’ll get married, all right.” Gabe smiled down at her and winked. “The pretty ones always get married.”

“There, you see? That’s what I’ve been telling you all along,” the teen told his sister. Turning his gaze to Gabe, the teen extended his right hand. “I should probably thank you for stopping the fight. Ma’d tan both of our hides if she heard what happened. I’m supposed to be watching the little imp, but I was talking to a girl my age instead. My name’s Nels.”

“Gabe,” he replied, shaking Nels’ hand. “I’m glad I could help. I just wish I had a little sister like yours.”

Nels laughed and jumped off the boardwalk. Grasping the girl’s hand, he said, “No, you don’t. She’s much too smart for her big brother. You new in town?”

“I’m visiting my aunt.”

“Who’s that?”

“Florence Miner.”

“Nope. Don’t know her. You wanna meet me here tonight, and we’ll go do something?”

“What kind of something?”

Nels shrugged. “Don’t know. Something.”

“Nothing you’ll get in trouble doing,” Fan announced with a giggle, “because Mama wouldn’t like that.”

Again, Nels laughed, this time at what must have been the obvious expression of surprise Gabe hadn’t been able to suppress when Fan relieved his only concern about meeting her brother. Gabe slammed his mouth shut and tore his startled gaze from the little girl.

“What time should I be here?” he asked.

“I can probably get back to town by eight.”

“All right. And thank you for offering.”

“My pleasure. Let’s go, imp,” Nels said as he started off down the street with her tagging along. “Ma’s gonna be furious if I don’t get you home soon.”

As Gabe watched them depart, the little girl turned around and walked backward to smile and wave at him. He returned her smile and waved back before she turned again and skipped along beside her brother.

Too bad he and his parents were headed west to start a cattle ranch. He would have liked to stay here in Moline, Illinois, and watch that little girl grow up. He’d known a lot of children, of course, but none of them had been as bright or as outspoken as she was. He wondered what she would be like as an adult.

***

Fanchon Sten stood on the front porch with Nels and her identical twin sister.

“Please take me, Nels,” she said without even a hint of pleading in her tone.

“Me, too,” Astrid begged.

“You can’t go,” Fanchon declared. “He’s my friend.”

“But you said he’s handsome, and you never think any boy’s handsome. I want to see for myself.”

Fanchon bristled. “You can’t go because he was nice to me. Boys are always nice to you. They just fight with me.” She turned her gaze to her big brother. “Don’t take her, Nels. The boys don’t like me because I’m smarter than she is. They all like her because she’s prettier. Why can’t I talk to a boy who thinks I’m smart?”

“Neither of you can go,” Nels said, shaking his head, “because you’re both supposed to be in bed. If Ma sees you out here, she’s going to blame me.”

“No, she won’t,” Fanchon argued. “She always blames me for everything.” She shrugged. “But I don’t care. I know she just doesn’t like it because I’m so smart.”

“It’s not because you’re smart, imp. It’s because you’re so damned …” He glanced around to see if his parents had been watching. “It’s because you’re so independent. She worries that you’re going to get into a situation you can’t handle someday.” With a hand on Fanchon’s left shoulder and one on Astrid’s right, he turned them in opposite directions and gave them a little shove toward the house. “Now both of you get back to bed before Ma sees you.”

“This is your fault,” Fanchon declared, glaring at her twin. “Nels would have taken me if you hadn’t wanted to go, too.”

“No, he wouldn’t have,” Astrid returned. “That boy is his friend—not yours. You just think he was nice to you. I bet he wasn’t.”

“He was, too! He was nice, and he likes me because I’m smart. He practically said so.”

“Practically isn’t saying so,” Astrid said as the pair stalked into the house.

Chuckling, Nels shook his head and started toward town. Until his sisters had been born, he hadn’t realized that two people could look so much alike and be so completely different—not to mention constantly at each other’s throats like a couple of stray dogs wanting the raccoon one had killed.

ONE

Fanchon passed the Moline House at least twice a day. Each time she waved to her friend who clerked the registration desk on weekdays. At six-foot, Byron Wood was an attractive man with brown hair and eyes. But the man across the counter who turned around when Byron returned her greeting was much more handsome.

Stunned by the sight of the sandy-blond Union soldier, she stopped short to rest her fingertips on the window. The man was at least three inches taller than Byron, and he stared back at her with his mouth agape, his eyes wide in astonishment. Many Rebels had been brought to the Rock Island Prison Barracks, but not one soldier—Union or Confederate—nor any civilian compared to the gentleman in the Moline House. If more men like him came to the prison noncontagious diseases hospital where she worked, …

The hospital! If she didn’t drag herself from the stranger’s captivating gaze, she would be late to meet the train with the incoming prisoners.

Long ago she’d learned to ignore ogling men, but the expression in the officer’s eyes wasn’t a lustful leer brought on by her unwanted beauty. It was a look of astonishment, and she could scarcely bear the thought of leaving. Unfortunately, she had no choice. Maybe he was on his way to his new duty station at the barracks on Rock Island. Or maybe he was going to the Arsenal on the same island in the Mississippi River between Moline, Illinois, and Davenport, Iowa.

To save time, Fanchon waved down a hansom cab driver. Settling into the seat, she told him to take her to the train depot. Now if she could just dismiss the new man in town from her mind and concentrate on her nursing duties.

The clerk interrupted his unexpected daydream of meeting that young woman back to the transaction by saying, “Major?”

The officer turned back toward the clerk, Byron Wood according to the wooden sign on the counter. If he worded it right, a cheerful observation might get him an introduction later. “You grow them tall and beautiful in Moline, don’t you.”

“I don’t understand, sir,” Byron replied.

“The young lady you waved to. She’s the most ravishing creature I’ve ever set eyes on.”

“Also the busiest,” Byron admitted with a grimace, “and the least interested in men. Probably has something to do with her job.”

“What does she do?” the major asked, not at all surprised that she worked. Women all over the country had taken employment to substitute for the men who went to fight.

“She’s a nurse at the prisoner of war camp.”

“Is that why she wears men’s clothing?”

“She says she has more freedom of movement in pants, and she doesn’t have to worry about blood getting on her dresses. People say a lot of nasty things about her, but she doesn’t care. She does what she wants no matter what other people think. I’ve never met such an independent girl.”

Byron’s confession reminded him of the little girl he’d met when he’d been in Moline nearly eleven years ago, the little blonde whom he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind in all that time. Now he wanted to meet that woman even more.

But what would he do if he did meet her? What if she wasn’t the fantasy he’d built her into? She was the reason he’d ridden to Moline on his way to Washington, D.C. He’d wanted to know how she’d grown up.

He shook the notion from his head. That woman probably wasn’t even the same person.

To conceal his thoughts, he said, “I didn’t know women like that existed. Maybe stopping over in Moline isn’t such a bad idea after all. With women like her around, this could be an interesting couple of days.”

“There’s only one more like her in Moline, and even she’s not quite the same.” To the soldier’s dismay, Byron changed the subject. “If you want a room, major, you’ll have to sign the register.”

Dipping the pen into the ink, the officer scribbled Gabriel Freeman in the book before him. “So far, we’ve established that she’s beautiful, smart, and one of a kind. What else can you tell me about her?”

“She’s more than just smart, sir,” Byron insisted with a heavy note of pride in his voice. “She finished school two years ahead of the other children her age.”

“Then she’s beautiful, brilliant, and one of a kind.” Even as Gabe replied, an idea came to his mind. Whether she was the girl of his fantasies or not, she sounded perfect, but he needed more information before he could be sure. “You’ve already staked a claim on her, haven’t you.”

Byron shot his startled gaze to the soldier. “No man will ever stake a claim on her. She won’t let him. You’ll never meet anybody as independent as she is. How many nights do you need the room?”

At least, she wasn’t taken. Things were coming together in a very positive way. “Make it three. Maybe somebody will introduce me to her, and I’ll want to spend the extra night. Unfortunately, that’s all I can spare.”

“All right, Major Freeman. Three nights.”

***

Why couldn’t she concentrate? Why did her mind continually return to the Moline House and the unconcealed appreciative stare of the officer? Had her own expression been as revealing as his? Quickly scanning the vicinity around the depot, Fanchon noticed that he had yet to take his position with the troops.

What a ridiculous notion! Of course, he wouldn’t appear. He was only passing through Moline—either on his way to war or on his way home. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been in the hotel. To her amazement, the thought disappointed her. He was one man for whom she would have made time to indulge in a courtship.

“Come here, Fanchon,” Dr. Watson said impatiently.

Startled from her thoughts, she hurried to the surgeon-in-charge. “Yes, sir?”

“This man needs my standard dosage of laudanum, but double it for the man over there.”

Glancing in the direction he pointed, Fanchon nodded. At the moment, she didn’t want to speak. She just wanted to dwell on the soldier and her fantasy of meeting him. He was the first man she’d felt an interest in, and she would probably never get to know him. What a distressing thought! Dr. Watson’s voice filtered into her daydreams, and she turned her blank gaze upon him.

“What’s the matter with you tonight?” he asked. “You’re acting like your mind is across the river.

“That’s how I feel, too,” she answered as she measured the correct amount of laudanum into a syringe. “I can’t seem to concentrate.”

“If I didn’t know better,” he said, teasing her. “I’d say that you have man-trouble.”

“You know that’s never my problem, doctor.”

“You’re the best nurse I’ve ever had, Fanchon, but you’re young. One of these days you’re going to lay those beautiful baby blues on a man who’ll turn your head and steal your heart.”

“What nonsense!”

Finishing her instructions for that patient, she went to the other man as she reconsidered Dr. Watson’s observation. Was it really nonsense?

***

Between her inability to keep her mind off the soldier and an extremely busy day, she was mentally and physically exhausted. All she wanted to do was stroll to her uncle’s house and relax over a cup of cocoa before bed. Thank goodness, her relatives had offered her a place in town to sleep. She dreaded walking to the farm after dark. Enough danger lurked in the streets of Moline—especially with the threat she’d been issued.

As she wandered along the boardwalk, her thoughts returned to the officer in the Moline House. Why couldn’t she get him out of her mind? Yet her intuition cried out that she would meet him. How could that be? He was just a traveler seeking a comfortable place to stay.

An arm encircled her from behind; a hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her scream. What had she done? She’d let her guard down and been captured. And to think of all the times that she’d been warned!

Even as a child she’d prided herself on being bright and levelheaded. But that night those traits had failed her—at the mere sight of a handsome man. Her whole life could be destroyed because of a fantasy. She might not even live long enough for her dreams to come true.

Terror turned to fury. Fanchon battled her assailant with a vengeance. Despite her continuous squirming, the man dragged her down a dark, dirty alley toward an open door where a light shone from within.

No man could treat her like this without recrimination. When the door closed and the man released her, Fanchon shrieked for help. A knife point pricked the skin just under her chin. She froze. Fear returned along with the racing of her heart. The man was armed, and she was at his mercy with no hope of freeing herself soon.

The sharply honed blade slid down the front of her shirt, neatly rending the fabric to expose her firm, naked breasts. In an instant, the cool metal pressed against her throat. Then a hot, husky voice spoke into her ear.

***

Gabe Freeman wandered along the boardwalk. According to the Moline House clerk, the nurse was unique. Would she fit his idea of perfection? Was that why he had to find her? Or was it because he desperately needed to know if that was the same little girl he’d met all those years ago?

Disappointed that he hadn’t been able to locate her during his hours-long meandering, Gabe rounded the corner on his return to the Moline House. There she was. He could tell by the distinctive light blonde plait hanging down the middle of her back. In the next moment, the gas streetlight on the opposite side of the road revealed an encounter she obviously didn’t want.

The assault on this woman infuriated him. He didn’t care if it was the woman he’d seen earlier that day or not. Racing down the street, he stopped short at the dark alley down which the pair had disappeared. A door slammed, and a faint shriek for help came from inside one of the five store backs. He hesitated, unsure what to do but desperate to help her. Where had they gone? Unless she screamed again, he could waste a lot of time trying to find her. But he had to. In a frantic effort to locate her, he raced from door to door.

***

“I told you it wasn’t safe to walk alone after dark,” the man holding her growled.

“Trevor!” she exclaimed. “Stop this!”

The door banged open, and Fanchon glanced up in astonishment. The officer from the Moline House loomed in the portal. An irate accusation burst forth from him. “You bastard!”

Using Trevor’s surprise to her advantage, she jerked downward on his knife-wielding hand. The sharp point sliced across her right breast, leaving a three-inch gash on the upper-middle portion of her cleavage. Too angry to be slowed, she ignored the stinging pain and dipped under Trevor’s right arm. At the same time, she twisted his wrist, raised her leg, and slammed his forearm across her thigh, disarming her opponent.

Then she was on the defensive again. He drove his shoulder into her abdomen, forcing a gush of air out her mouth. As they tumbled against the brick wall, Fanchon hit her head. The incredible pain sent sparks in a field of black before her eyes, and she unwillingly gave herself over to the darkness engulfing her.

Everything happened before Gabe could react. It was as though he was reliving that moment eleven years ago when he’d pulled the little blonde girl off the redhead boy when they were fighting. He’d already seen that this woman was beautiful, had already learned that she was intelligent and independent. But this young woman was more than that. She was also scrappy enough to fight for her freedom, waiting until just the right moment to defend herself.

This nurse was a woman he could depend upon to take care of herself. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to do it right now. His only recourse now was to protect her.

Enraged beyond control, Gabe slammed the door while the woman’s assailant scrambled to his feet.

“God damn you to hell for that!” Gabe roared, sprinting toward his opponent.

The man sidestepped him. and Gabe crashed into a table of dry goods. It toppled over, and thrown off balance by the impact, Gabe tumbled to the floor. As he scrambled to his feet, a chair shattered over his back. But the pain didn’t stop him. He grabbed a chair leg and rose completely, swinging it at his opponent.

The smaller man with dark red hair ducked under the wood then rammed a stick into Gabe’s stomach. Doubling over in agony, Gabe clutched his abdomen with both arms. The redhead had to be crazed to fight so furiously against someone a good half foot taller than he. When Gabe started to straighten up, blinding pain shot through the side of his head. A moment later he collapsed to the floor.

A low groan from deep within his throat was the next thing Gabe heard. Opening his eyes, he saw the man kneeling over the nurse with his trousers around his knees! Thank goodness, the nurse was still clothed in her trousers, although the redhead’s fingers were working the buttons at the waistband.

For several moments, Gabe couldn’t piece together the fragmented scene. When he did, though, he scrambled to his feet with an irate expletive. But before he could reach the redhead, the man raced from the building, holding up his unbuttoned trousers with one hand.

Gabe stared down at the young woman in wonder. Her skin was pale right down to the pinkish tip of her one exposed breast. Her hair was light blonde, but not just like the little girl’s he had stopped from fighting all those years ago. Her hips appeared wide, an ideal quality for bearing children.

Yes, this nurse’s body was his idea of perfection. She was beautiful, intelligent, independent, and spunky. But could she bear him a lot of offspring? That was the last requirement on his list, and he would get an answer to that by midday tomorrow. With any luck, he would have her by the time he left Moline.

But first he had to hide what had happened before she woke up. Thank God, she was still unconscious. He rebuttoned her trousers, he brushed against the soft bare skin beneath them. As much as he wanted to caress her, he couldn’t. She had been assaulted, and he had to show her that she could trust him if he wanted to spend any time with her. At the same time, he couldn’t let her know that he likened her to a little girl he’d met when he was younger.

Stripping off his shirt, he put it on the woman backwards, scooped her into his arms, and fled into the alley. He stopped short. What was he doing? If he took her to the Moline House, people would talk about her even more than Byron Wood already claimed. He couldn’t take her to a doctor, either, because then he would have to ask directions. No doubt remained. He had to tend to her himself.

Fanchon drifted into consciousness feeling the tender caress of a hand under her breast. A moment later a gentle pressure stung her cut. An entirely new sensation swept over her, a pleasurable undercurrent of desire, and a soft, blissful moan slipped from her throat.

The hand under her breast moved to caress her cheek. It was a touch unlike any she’d ever experienced, and she longed to remain in the dreamlike state forever, until she remembered the major. Now she needed to know. Was it he or Trevor? What a ridiculous question! It couldn’t be her life-long enemy; he didn’t know how to be gentle. It had to be the major. Opening her eyes, she gazed up at the officer, who the most endearing smile she’d ever seen.

“I’m not going to hurt you, miss,” he said in a deep, melodic voice as caressing as his touch. “I’m only trying to stop the bleeding.”

His classically featured face was marred by a large red mark on the left side. Reaching up, she laid her fingers on the swollen, bloody wound between his temple and ear. “You’ve been hurt.”

“I’ve been hurt a lot worse than this,” he replied. “I took a Sioux arrow in my chest then pulled two of my troops and my commanding officer to safety. A little bump on the noggin is nothing.”

“Let me examine you.”

When she started to sit up, he gently pushed her back to the floor by her shoulder. “No, you don’t, nurse-lady. You lie still until I get this bleeding stopped.”

To her surprise, Fanchon felt no embarrassment. This stranger had seen her nearly naked to the waist, and she hadn’t given it a second thought. From everything Astrid had told her, most men enjoyed looking at and fondling women with firm breasts like theirs, but the major’s actions weren’t those of a man overwhelmed by desire. At least, she didn’t think they were.

Still, she should feel at least some emotional discomfort. Why didn’t she? Maybe it was because he didn’t seem to care that her breasts were slightly larger than most women’s. He had gallantly covered her other breast with his shirt. Another possibility was that he had become her hero—just like that hero who had come into her life then disappeared when she was only seven years old. Whatever the reason, she didn’t mind him aiding her so intimately. She enjoyed it!

Had he ever been wrong! Going into the house the day his mother died wasn’t the hardest thing he would ever have to do. Tending to this young woman’s injury was a mixture of pleasure and fortitude. He was glad for the opportunity to gain her confidence by showing concern. But restraining his growing desire to show her how wonderful making love could be was nearly impossible.

She was even more beautiful than he’d realized, and he needed all of his mental strength to concentrate on his task. Still, he longed for a taste of her pouty lips. Despite his agonizing battle against the overpowering urge, his emotional and physical arousal grew. He’d started his first aid while she was unconscious. Now that she was awake, he questioned the advisability of checking her wound.

“I wonder if the bleeding has stopped,” he said.

“There’s only one way to answer that.”

Gabe stared at her in astonishment. Given the stunned expression on her oval face, she hadn’t intended for the words to come out in the sensual tone that they had. Given the circumstances and his growing arousal, it was better to ignore that she sounded willing to accommodate his desire even though she’d just been assaulted.

Returning his gaze to the piece of cotton shirt covering her breast, he struggled to conceal his true emotions. “I suppose there is.”

“It’s all right,” she assured him with a smile. “Somehow you know I’m a nurse, and I know that your intentions are honorable.”

Honorable hell! Gabe thought. He was only doing this to get what he wanted—her. No, that wasn’t completely true. He would have helped her even if she’d been ugly. But he certainly wouldn’t be having so much trouble stopping himself from taking her right then and there.

Slowly removing the material, he glanced at her injury then announced, “The bleeding’s stopped.” As she sat up, he held his uniform shirt toward her. She slipped into it then buttoned it while he watched with a mixture of distress and interest. “You’d better take care of that cut when you get home.”

“Do you think it needs stitches?” she asked.

“Probably not.”

“Thank goodness. It’s bad enough having a cut there without more people than necessary examining it.” She glanced around the storage room then returned her gaze to his face. “I see you scared him off. Thank you.”

“I wanted to get you away from here in case he came back, but I didn’t know where to take you. I locked the door instead.”

“You still saved me from an awful fate,” she insisted. “And I’m very grateful.”

Gabe frowned at the thought of his secret. If she knew that he had ulterior motives, she wouldn’t be grateful. A tug of guilt gripped his heart, and he changed the subject. “My name is Gabriel Freeman.”

She extended her hand toward him. “How do you do, Major Freeman. I’m Fanchon Sten.”

“What an unusual name. Fanchon. It’s pretty.” Flashing a bright smile, he shook her hand and added, “But not as pretty as you are.”

Fanchon gasped at the shock of excitement that shot through her when he grasped her hand. Why had he said that?  She didn’t feel pretty—not like Astrid claimed to feel, anyway. But she couldn’t admit that to this handsome soldier. To avoid more personal conversation, Fanchon bowed her head. “It’s Teutonic, meaning free. Dad decided it was better than Anna, which means gracious, because I’m so independent. I am, too. Free, I mean. I’ll never kneel before any man or woman who isn’t injured.”

How embarrassing! She’s always prided herself on being concise with words. Now she was babbling like a nervous schoolgirl. Again, his expression prohibited any prolonged introspection on her part. A severe frown accentuated his face, making him appear desolate, when a moment earlier he’d been equally happy. Gabriel Freeman was a man of extreme mood fluctuations.

“Is something wrong, Major Freeman?” Fanchon asked.

“Wrong?” he repeated. Then he grinned again. “Only one thing. My friends call me Gabe not Major Freeman. That’s reserved for the troops. You aren’t in the Army, are you?”

Fanchon giggled. “Of course not.”

Why was she acting like this? She’d never flirted with a man before, yet she was doing exactly what Astrid would do when she confronted a handsome fellow.

“Then I guess that makes you my friend,” he said. “You’re a little young to be a nurse. Does that have anything to do with you finishing school early?” When she stared at him in shock, he laughed, a rich, full sound that made her heart flutter. “Your admirer at the Moline House told me about you; although, I practically had to interrogate him to get answers.”

“What admirer?” she asked.

“The desk clerk at the Moline House. I believe his name is Byron Wood.”

“Byron Wood?” she repeated, stunned by this revelation. “My admirer? That’s nonsense. We’ve been friends too long for that.”

“Now that’s nonsense. Any man can admire a woman no matter how long they’ve been friends.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Gabe’s mind spun with excitement. This was the part of courtship that he liked the best. All his life women had flocked to him, but he still loved to charm them. And from the look in Fanchon’s pale blue eyes, she would love to have him do it.

The only thing that bothered him was this feeling of being out of control that swept through him. His heart constricted at the memory of the promise he’d made himself. When he’d vowed to marry a beautiful, intelligent, independent woman unafraid to demonstrate those qualities, he’d believed it meant that he would stay single forever. He never believed any woman would commit herself to being free—with the possible exception of that little girl who had claimed she could take care of herself. Then again, he’d never been in very close contact with women to learn much about them. Thus far, his life had been spent either on a farm or ranch, or on Army posts at Fort Laramie and Fort Bridger.

To avoid his thoughts, he said, “You can’t be that naive, Fanchon. Would you consider it ridiculous if I announced that I’m an admirer?”

“That’s different. We just met. I’ve had many men infatuated with me, and it passes when they realize I’m not interested in courtship. The same thing will happen to you.” Obviously, she realized what she’d insinuated, because she blushed and rushed on in a flurry of words. Gabe grinned, delighted to know he could fluster this lovely young woman. “If you meant it when you told me that you’re an admirer. Did you?”

“Oh, I meant it, all right, Fanchon. Now it’s time for you to answer my question. How old are you?”

“Seventeen. Eighteen in a couple of weeks.”

His chest tightened at her reply. Not quite eleven years ago, the little girl had been seven. Good Lord, the possibility was becoming closer to reality! But how could he possibly convince someone that young to marry him in one day? “Eighteen? I was hoping you were at least a couple years older than that.”

“You’re not that old, are you?” she returned. “You seem awfully young for a major, too.”

He shrugged. “I suppose I am, but I feel old enough after all the campaigns I put in to earn the rank. I’m twenty-seven. That’s still quite a bit older than you, especially at your age. Now if you were twenty-one and I were …” Gabe stopped midsentence, stunned by what he’d almost said. Thank God, he realized what he was thinking before he finished. He shouldn’t be telling this young woman that he would initiate a physical liaison. Now that he knew how old she was, even suggesting it would be difficult. He would have to be very careful how he approached her.

“If I were twenty-one and you were thirty, … what?” she asked.

“The age difference wouldn’t matter,” he explained, despite the excitement coursing through him.

She hesitated then asked, “Are you saying that because you don’t want me to be disappointed when you leave?”

“That’s right. I don’t want you to be disappointed. I’ll take you home now.”

“I’m not going home tonight. I’m staying at my uncle’s. My brothers are at war, so they can’t escort me home after dark.”

“Then you have no one to protect you from that man I took care of a while ago?” he asked.

“No. I don’t dare tell Dad, because he might do something irrational.”

“In that case, I’m staying at least through tomorrow. Can you make arrangements for me to show you how to protect yourself?”

“Probably, but you don’t need to.”

“Yes, I do. Now let’s go.”

“Before we do, may I ask you a question? Are you going to the war?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

“Is that why you don’t want me to be disappointed?”

To avoid answering, he grasped her hands and pulled her to her feet. The smile on his lips disappeared as he stared down into the large, baby blue eyes pleading for him to answer. Honesty would come easily, too. Going to war wasn’t the reason he didn’t want her to be disappointed. If he told her that, though, he would have to give her a plausible explanation—and he didn’t know how to explain his logic, because he wasn’t sure logic was even involved.

His mind drained of all thoughts except one. He wanted to embrace her, to devour her with a kiss so passionate that she would never forget him.

TWO

Confused by the tantalizing emotional charge that Gabe created in her, Fanchon studied the expression in his brown eyes. She bit her bottom lip gently as she tried to read his thoughts. He appeared as though he wanted to kiss her, and she would accept it if he did. What was she thinking? Gabe wouldn’t kiss her now; he was too much of a gentleman. He would never consider such an intimate act when he’d rescued her from Trevor minutes earlier.

“I imagine you’re right,” she agreed. “We should probably leave.”

Gabe draped his arm around her shoulders. Grasping her upper arm, he held her against his body as he escorted her from the storage room. In his protective embrace, Fanchon felt comfortable and safe, as though she belonged there. Gabe seemed to be a man who wouldn’t bind her in a relationship where he expected her to give up her freedom to satisfy his masculine needs. But his restraint didn’t prove that he would let her be free.

Glancing up, she realized for the first time that this kind, understanding stranger was naked above the waist. Had she become so accustomed to men’s nude bodies at the hospital that she’d lost all attraction toward them? Impossible! Now that she felt his skin against her cheek she had an even stronger attraction to him. How would it feel for him to hold her in his arms, to hug her close, to run his fingers through her hair? How would he taste if he bent over her and kissed her?

They stopped, and Fanchon stared at the door of her aunt and uncle’s house in a daze. They were standing on the porch, but she had no recollection of their walk. They could only have arrived there if she’d led the way, but she didn’t even remember that. Her normally realistic mind had been centered on a fantasy the entire fifteen-minute walk. Without hesitation, she grasped his arm and pulled him downward to plant a light kiss on his beard-stubbled cheek.

“Thank you for rescuing me, Gabe,” she said. “If I can ever do anything for you, just ask.”

Gabe considered her offer. From her desirous expression, she knew what she had suggested. But she was only eighteen. Most likely, she was still a virgin. He’d never been in such a quandary. Given everything he’d learned about her, Fanchon had everything he wanted in a wife, plus some. And he wanted her so badly it hurt, physically as well as emotionally.

An unexpected thought crossed his mind. If Fanchon was as intelligent as he’d heard, maybe she had the same type of realistic outlook on marriage that he did. And if that were the case, he might have met his mate. His fantasy might become reality. But he needed more information before he could give serious consideration to her suggestion.

“All I want from you,” he said, “is your promise to meet me tomorrow. I want to teach you to protect yourself.”

Fanchon smiled and bowed her head. “I promise.”

“Terrific! Let’s get you inside.”

“You can’t come in,” she denied, shooting her panicked gaze back to his face. “If you do, Uncle Hal will be suspicious. He’ll have questions that I don’t want to answer. He works for a local newspaper, Gabe. I don’t want what happened made public.”

Smiling, Gabe trailed the backs of his fingers across her blemish-free jawline and sighed. At last, he caressed her shoulders and gazed into her pale eyes, saying, “I don’t blame you, Fanchon, but they’ll know whether I go in or not. You can’t hide your assault, even if you return my shirt right here. Yours was destroyed, remember?”

She stared up at him. The expression of despair etched on her face compelled him to draw her against him and stroke her soft, baby-fine hair while her cheek rested on his upper chest. After kissing the top of her head, he said, “Don’t worry, Fanchon. I’ll help you con—”

Fanchon sighed. His embrace was so warm, his voice so reassuring, that she didn’t want to move for the rest of her life. Being in his comforting arms was her most wonderful experience. She longed for him to lay her down and make her a woman right there on her uncle’s porch. As she slid her arms around his back and gazed up into his dark eyes, the door beside them opened. Fanchon shot her startled stare toward it.

“I thought I heard …” The tall man with thick gray hair narrowed his green eyes. “What the hell’s going on here?”

“Uncle Hal!” Fanchon gasped. Her astonishment froze her while she looked up at him. This situation was going to be worse than she’d thought now that they’d been caught in an embrace. She averted her gaze to Gabe and saw that he was staring at her uncle with wide brown eyes. Apparently, he’d been startled into immobility as well.

“You were supposed to be working tonight, Fanchon,” Hal Osterberg scolded. “Our home’s not open to you if you’re having clandestine meetings so your mother doesn’t know.”

Beside her Gabe inhaled as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and turned toward Hal. Fanchon gazed up at him, disappointed that he’d released her from their full embrace.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said, “but it’s not what you think. Fanchon was assaulted. I was only giving her … brotherly support.”

Brotherly support? she thought. It was only brotherly support? How could she have responded like she had if that’s all it had been? How could she have experienced such intense, unrestrained emotional turmoil if his embrace had been nothing more than a brotherly action. Unless, perhaps, his brief pause meant that his words were said merely to pacify Hal.

“If that was your idea of brotherly support, young man,” Hal said, “I don’t think I should be around to see how you support a woman you love.”

Fanchon gasped in shock and exclaimed, “Uncle Hal!” She had to say something to take Hal’s mind off having found her in Gabe’s embrace. Desperate to say anything, she explained, “Gabe saved my virtue tonight¾not to mention my life. You could at least be polite.”

Hal examined her before returning his gaze to Gabe. “Fanchon’s right. I’m sorry, young man. Our family tends to be a bit overprotective of my sister’s daughter. Won’t you come in and sit a spell? Maybe you’d like a glass of brandy.”

Smiling, Gabe acted as though Hal hadn’t voiced such bitter words. This whole scene made Fanchon uncomfortable, but Gabe didn’t seem phased. More than anything, she wanted to start the evening over so they could have a pleasurable first meeting, but that could never happen.

Then his voice drifted to her ears with such levity that it stunned her. “My aching body and I would appreciate that, sir.”

Aching body? She hadn’t noticed any wounds other than the lump on his head, but he’d apparently been hurt worse than he’d said. Guilt for not taking a more active interest in his injuries rushed through her.

Now she understood Dr. Watson’s warning against becoming involved with her patients. All the attraction and wonderful sensations blocked one’s ability to concentrate on anything else. Or was it those sparkling brown eyes that made all logical thoughts drain from her mind? How many other females had fallen prey to his captivating gaze?

“Are you going to stare at your hero all night, Fanchon?” Hal teased. “Or are you going to let him have that drink?”

Reacting quickly, she preceded the men into the sitting room where a stout, gray-haired lady was crocheting. Holding his hand, Fanchon introduced Gabe to Harold and Emily Osterberg then led him to the well-padded Chippendale sofa.

Fanchon glanced around as Gabe sat down. She’d always loved this room. It was cozy and reflected the tastes of her aunt. Like the sofa, two Chippendale wing chairs were covered with beige wool. The Boston rocker in which Em sat was padded with colorfully flowered pillows. All the wood was polished to a bright shine.

Steeling herself for the job at hand, Fanchon stepped in front of Gabe. Even though she longed to touch him forever, she focused her attention on examining his wounds. She glanced behind him. Across his broad back were several abrasions, and there was a large bruise near his narrow waist. At least, the bleeding from his head wound, which had matted his sandy-blond hair near his temple, had stopped. A deep purple bruise on his abdomen was partially hidden by the hair running down the middle of his hard, muscular stomach. What a wonderful specimen of a man!

Then Fanchon noticed the signs of previous battles¾a scar on his upper right chest, one on each side of his left arm, one close to his left side and another in his back, both just under his ribs. Gabriel Freeman had flirted with death on more than one occasion. And he’d been both strong and brave enough to fight back from his injuries.

“Would you please get a cold, wet towel, Aunt Em? And put some water on to boil. I need warm, soapy water, too. I’ll go change out of Gabe’s shirt and get my supplies.” Nearly knocking Hal down in her rush to leave the room, Fanchon halted. “Don’t just stand there grinning, Uncle Hal. Get Gabe the brandy you offered him.”

Gabe smiled as Fanchon hurried up the stairs. This was more interesting than seduction. Her relatives couldn’t say a word about her touching his body, and he had every intention of letting that happen for as long as she would do it.

“Our nurse-in-residence is a lovely, young lady,” Hal observed, wandering to a cabinet to his left. “Brandy, Gabe? Or would you prefer scotch or whiskey?”

“Scotch, please.” Watching Hal splash some liquid into two glasses, Gabe replied, “She’s more than that, sir. She’s remarkable. Your family must be very proud of her.”

“Em and I are, but the rest? There are nearly seventy-five Osterbergs and Stens spanning three generations in and around Moline. There are seven children and seven grandchildren in her family alone, and she’s the third from the youngest child. But Fanchon’s the most controversial of either clan.” After handing Gabe his drink, Hal sank into a nearby wing chair. “I can tell by your voice that you need a word of advice, and you’d better take it to heart. Fanchon won’t be shackled by any man, so don’t get involved.”

“But the way she looks at me …”

“Infatuation with a hero, son,” Hal interrupted, “which isn’t uncommon in girls her age.”

“He’s right, Gabriel,” Em agreed. Joining the men, she placed the rag, icy cold from the pump water, against Gabe’s head. “Hold that there. Fanchon’s a dear child and very intelligent. We couldn’t love her more if she were our own. But when it comes to men, she’s an innocent. And she’s certainly not ready for courtship.”

As Em left again, Gabe took a long drink of the throat-burning liquid then released a sigh, which came out louder than he’d anticipated. In despair, he collapsed back against the sofa. His wounds stung when they scraped on the rough material, and he lurched forward. He took another drink, hoping to still his anxiety.

How had he gotten himself into this mess? He’d never believed that he would find a woman as independent as he wanted. Then, without warning, an eighteen-year-old beauty walked into his life and admitted to having exactly that quality. If that wasn’t enough, she was intelligent and sensitive. Now he learned that she had a large family. But according to Hal, she as only infatuated! According to Em, she wasn’t ready for courtship. How could he possibly make her fall in love with him in the short time he had? How could he convince her to accept his proposal?

Gabe stared at the remaining quarter glass of scotch and groaned. Lifting the glass to his lips, he downed the liquor in one large gulp. What was he thinking? One day wasn’t enough to convince any woman he’d just met to marry him, let alone a young one who worshipped her freedom.

“It’s not the end of the world,” Hal said as he refilled Gabe’s glass. “There are plenty of other women out there.”

“Not like Fanchon. Or do you know something about women that I haven’t learned yet?”

“Probably a lot. But you’re right about Fanchon. I doubt there’s another female like her.”

At that moment, Gabe heard her footsteps on the stairs and stopped talking.

Fanchon worked silently as she cleaned Gabe’s injuries. Her touch was so tender that he could liken it to no other woman’s he’d ever known. Only two things kept him from becoming aroused in front of her relatives—the stinging peroxide and sheer willpower. Had they been alone, though, he would have had her in his arms and tasted the sweet depths of her mouth within minutes.

Listening as Gabe convinced Hal to withhold an article about her attack, she tended to his injuries. Her preference to conversation that night lay in concentrating on the muscular body over which she had free rein. She delighted in the sight and feel of the large muscles, hard from years of strenuous labor, as she applied the peroxide. Despite the pain the medicine had to produce, he bore it admirably. His voice didn’t even falter when he spoke.

Finished with his head and back, she said, “Put your shirt on, Gabe. I don’t want you to get peroxide on Aunt Em’s settee.” Without a word, he slid into his shirt. When he started to button it, Fanchon grasped his wrists. The new excitement flooded through her, but she didn’t dare let it show. Struggling to control her emotions, she kept her tone formal as she spoke. “Now lie down.”

“Why?” he asked as she gently pushed him backward by his shoulders.

“I want to examine the bruise on your stomach,” she explained. “There could be internal bleeding. If so, I should take you to the doctor.”

Kneeling on the floor, Fanchon laid her hands on Gabe’s stomach with a casualness she hoped deceived the others. But there was nothing casual about the nervous anticipation eating at her. She had no reason to suspect internal bleeding; she only wanted to handle his hard body a while longer. Probing tenderly around the bruise, she focused her attention on her motions. It was the only way to resist the temptation to see if he was experiencing something other than a “brotherly” reaction.

With Fanchon on her knees beside him, her words of earlier that night echoed through his memory: I’ll never kneel before a man or woman who isn’t injured. Hal’s warning that Fanchon wasn’t the type to be restricted in a relationship came to his mind. But her hands said something different, from what Hal believed and certainly from her attendance to the wounds on his back. She no longer caressed him as a nurse, rather as a woman with a deep-seeded interest in a man.

The realization aroused him to the point where he had to get out of that house fast. Drawing up his courage to speak, he forced levity into his voice. “What’s your professional opinion, nurse-lady?”

“You’re fine,” she said, rising to her feet.

“Then I’d better leave.”

“I’ll see you out.”

As they strode to the front door, Gabe buttoned his uniform shirt then took his cap from under his arm and set it on his head. When they got to the portal, he reached around her and opened it. Stepping onto the porch with Gabe, Fanchon closed the front door behind them. Since she first saw him, she’d fantasized about him kissing her; and she was determined to get what she wanted, like she had with everything else she’d set her mind on.

“I suppose it’s time to say good night,” he said.

“I suppose,” she agreed. “I want to thank you again for rescuing me.”

Cupping her ears, he gazed down at her unfalteringly as he slid his hands down her neck to her shoulders. “Thank you for nursing me. I feel better already.”

Although she opened her mouth slightly, she couldn’t respond. The apprehensive anticipation of an embrace she sensed would soon follow prohibited it. If she said something now, he might remember that she was an innocent adolescent and break his stimulating caress. Until she met Gabe, she’d never given men more than a passing thought. Now all she could think of was this handsome soldier changing her undefiled status.

“Will you meet me tomorrow so I can teach you to take care of yourself while I’m gone?” he asked.

Again, she nodded in response. While he was gone! Maybe that meant he would return to her. Finally finding some semblance of a voice, she said, “I’ll pack a picnic if you’d like.”

“Don’t tell me that you can cook, too,” he teased with a grin. Then his smile dropped into a frown. “This is probably terrible to say after the way we met, but I have to say this. You’re very special to me, Fanchon. You remind me of someone I met years ago. And I guarantee that’s a good thing.”

He gave her no time to reply before his lips met hers in a firm kiss that set her mind spinning with joy. His arms slid around her back to hug her. The embrace was neither deep nor extended, but it left her euphoric. She was special to him, very special!

“I asked if eleven tomorrow morning is all right, Fanchon,” he prompted with shining dark eyes. “Are you going to answer me?”

“It’s fine,” she replied.

“Should we meet here or at the Moline House?”

“Here is better.”

“Then I’ll be here at eleven. Good night.”

***

As a bi-level city, Moline was divided into three major sections. The business district began at the Mississippi River extending south to Sixth Avenue and east from Twelfth to Fifteenth Streets. The lower residential area was on the flat land between River Drive and Eighth Avenue. The upper residential area sat atop the hill, which sloped steeply upward where Fanchon and Gabe mounted it.

They rode across Moline’s hill for quite a distance before they arrived at the other side. In the beginning, Gabe felt a twinge of homesickness. The hill itself reminded him of the Laramie Mountains where he had gone hunting and fishing when he was young. But when they came out of the trees, the terrain was much different. Instead of being a mountainous desert, the valley below was lush and green. In the distance, another river, much smaller than the Mississippi, caught his attention.

“Is that the Rock River you told me about?” he asked when they stopped to view the scene.

“Yes.”

“When you want to go out of the way, you do a good job.”

Fanchon giggled. “It isn’t as far as it seems.”

At the bottom of the hill, Fanchon urged her horse into a run. Gabe reined up his horse to watch her long, wavy hair blowing behind her. Showing her how attracted to her he was would be an absolute joy! He spurred his mount and followed her at a gallop.

Fanchon sped ahead of him most of the way. Less than fifty yards from the Rock River, she stopped. Turning in her saddle, she watched him approach. A smile brightened her entire face. From the look in her pale blue eyes, she enjoyed seeing him move in the saddle, maybe because he was so relaxed that he felt like part of the horse. An unexpected sense of happiness and pride swept over him. In his mind, she was the most beautiful woman alive, and he was determined to make her his.

When he caught up with her, she teased, “What took you so long, slow poke?”

Gabe smiled. “I wanted to watch all that gorgeous hair flying in the wind. I could have been way ahead of you, too, if I hadn’t been carrying our food. It smells so good that I didn’t want to lose it.”

“You were lucky you didn’t lose me,” she taunted as she nudged her horse into a walk beside his. “I could have been at the river long ago.”

Gabe frowned. The very thought of losing her bothered him more than he wanted to admit, even to himself.

What would she do after he left Moline? That was an asinine question! She’d go back to work. But would she be upset? Would she miss him? Would she worry about him? Then an even more distressing question entered his mind. Would another man marry her while he was away? No! He couldn’t let that happen. She was his perfect woman, and he had to marry her—before he left town.