Mail-Order Passion: Mountain Heat (Carvers)

By Emily Ryan-Davis

After months of correspondence with a lonely rancher in Colorado, widow Margaret Redde left her East Coast existence behind and headed west to start her new life on Twin Mountains Ranch. The last thing she expected was to encounter a man who denied knowledge of their long-distance courtship. When the lovely, fiery widow shows up in his remote Colorado town bearing promises signed in his name, it doesn't take Ethan Carver long to figure out he and Margaret had both been duped by his younger brother, James, who also bound Ethan and Margaret together for a year as man and wife.
Margaret wants security and she doesn't care where it comes from — one brother is as good as the other…until Ethan touches her. One night in his arms changes everything. His hot kisses send her up in flames and teach her desires she didn't know she possessed.
Soon, Ethan knows a year isn't nearly enough time to explore Margaret's lush mouth and curvy body, but Twin Mountains Ranch doesn't have a history of keeping its women. Margaret will leave eventually...but Ethan is determined to make sure when she does leave, she carries his mark on her heart.

Formerly available as All the Trees in Pearl

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emily Ryan-Davis
• Release date: Dec 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781386380696

Book preview

1

Pearl, Colorado

1868

This is it, miss!

Margaret Redde shifted to peek past the wagon’s canvas cover, eager to see the Colorado ranch that would be her new home.

A swatch of pink sky stopped the breath in her chest. Recent daybreak hugged the horizon’s spiky mountain peaks. Closer than the mountains, green hills unfolded their rolling carpet, punctuated by trees of such unfamiliar shapes and sizes, so different from the forests of her native East Coast. A dusty, narrow trail pointed the wagon down into a valley. As the driver crested the hill, she caught a glimpse of several peaked red roofs all spaced close enough together that they were obviously part of the same property. Ethan Carver’s ranch with the house and all its working outbuildings. Home. Her stomach tightened and exploded with the anxious flutter of a thousand butterflies.

She sank back to the wagon’s padded floor and covered her mouth, gasping for breath. Dear Lord. What would she say to him? What would he say to her? She should have remained in Pearl and hired a rider to inform Ethan she’d arrived earlier than planned. Surprises were for young, fresh girls, not grown, widowed women.

The wagon lurched down the hill. She snatched up her olive green hat and frantically stabbed pins into her hair. She was nearly thirty years old—she couldn’t be seen with her head uncovered.

Too soon the driver called to the horses and the wagon rattled to a halt. Margaret moved to see out the back. The scenery captured her a second time. From this angle, the dotting trees clung to one another and unfurled across the surrounding low mountains. The morning smelled of pine and earth. Her fingers itched to touch the spiny canopy, but she curled them into her palms. A quartet of men approached. The wagon bumped and bounced as the driver hopped down. A sudden instinct to hide drove Margaret to crouch in the corner near the driver’s bench.

This shipment’s overdue, one of the men called to the driver. Big hands peeled back the canvas flap. He stuck his head and shoulders into the dim recess of the wagon and froze. Margaret blanched.

You’re a far cry from livestock feed, he observed.

The brim of his hat hid his eyes and the upper half of his face. The lower half was strong and square. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the full curve of his bottom lip, which quirked in bemused amusement. Heat curled in her abdomen. His shirt, a simple dusty blue, was unbuttoned at the top. Dark blond hair curled in the opening. A few coils tickled the hollow of his throat.

And you don’t look like the sort to eat up all my feed...which leads me to believe this never was a wagon full of my supplies. He hitched his elbow atop the wagon’s tailgate and leaned forward. What’s your name?

She swallowed and prayed for recognition to show itself on his face. Margaret.

His features remained disappointingly blank. Margaret what?

Her shoulders slumped. Margaret Redde. I’m here to see Ethan Carver.

Ah. He shifted and the wagon creaked as he propped his foot on the hitch. The grin that brightened his face melted her inside. I sure do hope you like what you see, darlin’.

I’m sure I will, she said faintly. Perhaps you’ll let me out, so I might find him?

He shook his head. No need to go anywhere. I’m standin’ right here.

You must be mistaken. Ethan knows me, and you don’t. She frowned and drew up against the wagon’s side, plastering her body tight to the protection of wood. Please bring him immediately.

I’m the only Carver living on this ranch, he said, his tone turning from playful to bitter. If you’re looking for Ethan Carver, you’re looking for me. Can I help you with something?

I...but you...I’m going to be your wife, and you don’t... she trailed off, speechless. His features froze, hardened. He didn’t know her. Margaret covered her face, deeply embarrassed. What have I done? Please send the driver back, she muttered between her fingers.

Are you comin’ out, miss? Mr. Seeley, the old man who’d delivered her from Pearl, appeared at Ethan Carver’s side. I have to get back on the road. Need to be in Wyoming by noon.

She drew a deep breath, blew it out, and looked between the