Nathan Ravenclaw was run out of town by the father of the girl he was courting once he discovered Nathan’s Arapaho Indian heritage. It didn’t matter he was a successful rancher, businessman and a positive member of society. The white community suddenly saw only a half-breed. Even his money couldn’t buy him a wife. That was ten years ago. He moved and rebuilt everything that cold rancher took from him except a wife. Matchmaker & Company can get him a wife. But Nathan is not expecting the beauty that waits for him on the train platform. Though he still lacks the ability to trust, he determines that she will be the wife and mother he needs.
Can these two people find love and healing together? Or are their scars too deep to bridge the gap between trust and acceptance?
The weather was cold with the wind off the plains toward the mountains. The buildings weren’t as tall as in New York, but the wind still whistled between them and over the platform where she stood. She was glad of her good wool coat and lined boots. They kept her warm while she waited for Mr. Ravenclaw to find her. There wasn’t anyone else wearing a veil so she didn’t think he’d have much problem identifying her.
She wasn’t really sure what she expected, but it wasn’t the tall, devastatingly handsome man that approached her. He had a square jaw shaved clean and a tiny dimple in his chin. Black eyebrows slashed over his eyes, the color of which was hidden by the shadow from his hat, pulled low on his head. For once she was glad of her veil. He wouldn’t be able to see her mouth hanging open, gawking at him.
“Miss Davenport?”
“Yes. Are you Mr. Ravenclaw?”
“I am.”
She held out her hand. “Ella Davenport.”
He removed his glove and enveloped her hand in his big one. His fingers brushed the skin of her wrist just above her glove. The tingle that traveled clear to her toes was unexpected and her gaze snapped up to his. She looked up into the most beautiful blue eyes. They seemed to question what was happening between them as much as she did.
He held her hand for what seemed like a lifetime and they simply starred at each other.
“Miss Davenport….”
“Ella. Please.”
“Ella. I would like for you to lift your veil.”
“Are you sure you want to do this in public. It can be…shocking.”
“I’m sure.” He squeezed her hand and then let go.
“Very well.” She lifted the heavy lace, prepared for him to be taken aback by the ugliness of it. She wasn’t prepared for him to lift his hand and gently trace the scar all the way from her left eye over her cheek and down her neck to the top of her collar.
There was no disdain on his face. His blue eyes took in everything and accepted it, but even so he said the last thing she expected.
“You are a very beautiful woman.”
She stood there with her mouth open until he raised her chin with his knuckle.
“Why are you surprised? Surely you have heard the compliment before.”
She shook her head to clear it and find her tongue. “Not since the accident, except from my brother. But he’s biased. He loves me.”
“He but states the obvious. Your scars do not detract from your beauty.”
“I must thank you because good manners dictate it. However, I believe we should see about getting you some glasses.”
He laughed. A rich, deep baritone. “I’m glad you have a sense of humor.”
She stared back at him, incredulous, “Who was joking?”
Cynthia was and is an avid reader. Her mother was a librarian and brought new books home each week. This is where young Cynthia first got the storytelling bug. She wrote her first story at the age of ten. A romance about a little boy she liked at the time.
Cynthia credits her wonderfully supportive husband Jim and the great friends she’s made at CRW for saving her sanity and allowing her to explore her creativity.
Come back on May 11 for a review/interview on my blog. I have read another of her books, and it was wonderful! If you love romance, she is your author!