Marry Me

By Heidi Wessman Kneale

In 1905 New York City, affluent Millie Moore wants to be outspoken like the suffragettes she admires. She also wants to rid herself of an annoying and controlling suitor. For a well-brought up young lady whose mother fears her impending spinsterhood, speaking her mind is an uphill battle. When Raymond Wilson sees Millie at a rally, it’s love at first sight. Not wanting his stutter to ruin his chances, he enchants a little candy heart to do his talking for him. For Millie, Raymond is a breath of fresh air. And maybe, just maybe, someone she could love. But for her social-climbing suitor Guy Elliot, he’s a threat to his plans. And Raymond isn’t the only one who knows something about magic. Now the ante has been upped and Millie is the prize…

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Feb 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781509206285

Heidi Wessman Kneale

Heidi Wessman Kneale is an Australian author of moderate repute. She specialises in Science Fiction, Fantasy and Romance. When she's had enough of reality, she opens a book.

Book preview

Inc.

A giggle rose up inside Millie. Do you always carry around candy?

A g-g-ood uncle is a-a-a-always p-prepared.

Raymond patted down his pockets. His hand rested over his heart for a moment. A coy little smile played his lips. Then he reached into another pocket and brought out a rumpled white bag from Smith’s. He pulled out a heart.

I—I been s-s-aving th-th-these in c-c-ase I f-found you ag-g-gain. From the inside of his jacket he produced a pencil.

He wrote a tiny message on the heart before he gave it to her.

Eat me! it squeaked.

How adorable.

Her laughter bubbled up unrestrained. Is it safe?

He nodded.

She looked at the heart, hesitated, and then held it up to his lips. You first.

He opened his mouth and accepted the heart from her delicate fingers. He sucked on it and closed his eyes in delight. Mmmm… He leaned back against the iron railing and gave himself over to the joys of a little conversation heart.

Millie let out a breath. Are you teasing me?

He lifted a single eyelid. Yep.

Extracting another heart, he wrote, Sweet Lips. He held it up for her. Y-your t-turn.

Praise for Heidi Wessman Kneale

What I like about Kneale’s writing is that she executes it well.

~Paul Mannering, author of Asif!

~*~

…Kneale succeeds in reversing reader expectations in more ways than one.

~Chris Butler, The Fix: Short Fiction Review

~*~

Heidi Kneale has so much imagination. She’s one of the best I’ve seen.

~Anne Wingate, author, Deb Ralston series

~*~

"…the world introduced [in AS GOOD AS GOLD] was intriguing and there seem to be more possibilities to be explored, always a sign of a strong tale."

~Margaret Fisk, author,

Uncommon Lords and Ladies series

Marry Me

by

Heidi Wessman Kneale

A Candy Hearts Romance

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Marry Me

COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Heidi Wessman Kneale

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by RJ Morris

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2016

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0628-5

A Candy Hearts Romance

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To Their Ladyships,

Lady Sarah and Lady Amy,

who have discovered the joys of a good book.

Raymond Wilson had enchanted the little bag of candy hearts before he’d stepped out of Smith’s Sweet Shop. He pulled out one little pink heart, exposing it to the light.

Sweet talk! it squeaked, a little louder than he expected. In surprise, he dropped it back in the bag. Oh, his nieces would love these! The nephews, maybe not so much. He suspected they preferred his previous gift: little circus animal crackers that danced and pranced about. Their nursemaid wasn’t as enamoured, for several of the little beasties had escaped and hidden under the dresser drawers, evading all efforts of capture.

Raymond checked his pocket watch. Plenty of time left that afternoon for a pleasant stroll through the park before visiting his sister and her numerous offspring. The traffic on East 59th Street had slowed. Two delivery wagons and four empty carriages had all but halted. He slipped between them, skipping over the plentiful horse manure the sweepers had yet to scoop up.

Once on the other side, he saw what had caused the traffic to slow. A large, noisy group of women on the corner of Madison Avenue waved placards. As they were facing away from him, he had no idea what they were protesting. They did that a lot—women—often to the inconvenience of those around them. If only they were given the vote, or had their liquor taken away, or whatever it was that they wanted, then the streets of New York would no longer be plagued with traffic-stopping demonstrations. Normally such demonstrations were held much higher up. What were they doing in a fashionable neighborhood like this?

That’s when he saw her.

Her. A beautiful young woman, standing no more than five yards away from him. It was as if the rest of the world fell away, leaving only him and her.

She hid behind a lamp post, her back to him, and watched the female protesters with great interest. How old was she? Under her straw hat, her hair was up in the fashionable bouffant that Gibson Girls favoured, but her hemline hung scandalously above her ankles. A girl just out of the schoolroom? Surely no more than nineteen.

Maybe she was a working girl? But no. The slim-fingered hand that rested on the lamp post was lily-white. A beaded bag hung from her elbow. No shopgirl owned such finery.

She turned. Raymond immediately averted his eyes. It would not do to be caught staring. Still, he couldn’t help but peer at her from under the brim of his hat. Her very presence drew his gaze.

What a face to behold. She caught her ruby lips between her teeth. Soft brown eyes glanced about, nervous. Raymond’s heart thumped. She was lovely. Could any young woman have such beauty and such innocent delight? Such a combination was rare in his experience.

A yearning tightened in his stomach. Had he been any other man, he would have strolled up to her, presented his card, and said Good day. But he was Raymond, and the words to come out of his mouth would have been, G-g-g-g-ood d-d-day. What fair maiden would want to hear that?

Damn stutter.

Not that they could have much of a conversation on the noisy street. The protesters shouted their slogans, their voices competing with the loud ringing of iron horseshoes on the pavement. In disappointment, he turned away and shoved his hands into his pockets.

His right hand