A Mail-Order Destiny

Miners to Millionaires - Book 10

Janelle Daniels

Dream Cache Publishing

Willow Packer has one clear goal: to make her business thrive. Determined to collect what is owed her, she confronts the hotel owner, only to end up rescuing another lady from being thrown out on the street. Willow takes Abigail under her wing and is thrilled when she agrees to sew for her… at least until Abigail's brother, a hotel tycoon from the East shows up, demanding his sister's return.

In Manhattan, Rhys Winthrop is known as a ruthless businessman, one never to be crossed. When his sister runs from home, he's forced to travel across the county to fetch her. Assuming his sister will comply with his demands, he's sent reeling when a gorgeous, stubborn woman, who's set herself up as Abigail's protector, slams a door in his face.

Rhys is forced to stay in town until he convinces his sister to return home, but unexpectedly, he's drawn to the town's quirky hotel. Rhys purchases the property on impulse and unwittingly sparks a mad search for a legendary treasure. Now, Willow and Rhys must work together as the search turns deadly. But will the treasure they discover be made of gold… or of the heart?

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To Dan. You’ve kept me going this whole time. I couldn’t have done this without you. Here’s to the next ten books!

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue

Titles by Janelle Daniels

Chapter 1

Willow Packer was determined, bossy, and persistent, and she didn't bother denying it. So, as she marched down Main Street in Promise Creek, Montana, she knew exactly what she was after, and how to get it.

She pushed through the glossy, wooden doors of the town’s hotel, intent on finding the hotel owner's wife, Mrs. Clayton. Dressed in a putrid shade of yellow, a color Willow had practically begged the woman not to select, it was impossible to miss her. Besides that, she was tearing into a young lady wearing one of the most exquisite pink dresses Willow had ever seen. If she wasn't on a mission to collect on Mrs. Clayton's bill, she might have been tempted to stop and ask who'd made the luxurious gown.

Willow marched up to them. "Mrs. Clayton, I need a moment of your time." It was the height of rudeness to interrupt a conversation, but she didn't care.

At the abrupt intrusion, Mrs. Clayton gave Willow her attention, the sour expression on her face matching the tone of her gown. "Miss Packer, I'm a bit busy at the moment, if you didn't realize. Perhaps another time?" Mrs. Clayton turned her entire body away from Willow, giving her the cut.

If Willow were anyone else, she might've been cowed, might have slunk away in embarrassment, but that wasn't her. Instead of running out the door, she took a purposeful step forward. Mrs. Clayton still didn't pay her any attention, but the woman in the pink dress raised her green eyes in surprise, and Willow could see the startled amusement in their depths.

"Forgive me," Willow said to the lady. "I'm afraid my conversation with Mrs. Clayton can't wait."

The well-dressed woman bit her lip as if she were trying to stop herself from smiling, then nodded. "By all means, I wouldn't want to stand in the way of such an important conversation." The woman nodded to Mrs. Clayton. "We will speak of the matter again soon."

Mrs. Clayton's nostrils flared. "There's nothing left to discuss, Miss Winthrop. You’re out of funds, which means you're out of the hotel."

Miss Winthrop spine straightened. "I can procure more funds. Money is no problem."

Mrs. Clayton rolled her eyes and scoffed. "My dear, if money were no problem, why are you in Promise Creek without any?"

Miss Winthrop's cheeks blanched, but before she could rally again, Willow cut into the conversation. "Speaking of funds, I'm here to collect payment for the services I rendered."

Mrs. Clayton's shrill laughter filled the room, and it took every ounce of willpower Willow possessed not to cringe. "My dear," Mrs. Clayton started in a placating tone. "You can't possibly expect me to pay for this—” she pinched the material of her skirt “—well, garment is too nice of a word. It's poorly constructed, and I fear the seams will burst apart at any moment due to poor workmanship."

Willow bit her tongue and silently counted to five. The seams might be about to burst, but that was only because the overly plump woman had insisted Willow cut the gown until it was a second skin. "If the product is of inferior quality, why are you wearing it?"

The woman shrugged and ran her hand over the silky soft material. "Oh, well, I thought I would give it one last shot. In case I was wrong, you know. It doesn't happen often, and in this instance—" she lifted her hands in the air "—I fear I was correct once again."

There were so many things Willow could've said, so many things she wanted to say. But she'd learned from past experience that when she let her temper fly, undesirable consequences occurred. Mrs. Clayton might be a bossy, loud, and brash sort of woman, but the fact was, she also had some sway in the community. "I'm sorry you feel that way. In that case, I'm afraid I’ll have to take possession of the unwanted garments immediately." Mrs. Clayton spluttered and opened her mouth to argue. "Immediately," Willow said, once again.

Mrs. Clayton's cheeks flushed in anger, and her eyes narrowed. "It seems that having a little wealth has gone to your head." Her eyes flicked to the opposite side of the room, where Willow knew Jared, her bodyguard, waited in the shadows. "It's also easy to make demands when you have muscle to back you up."

Willow's jaw clenched, and she offered the older woman a tight smile. "First off, I didn't come into a little bit of money. I came into a lot. Second, I don't need a bodyguard to demand payment for my work, or to retrieve any unwanted items. Now, I'll ask one more time before taking this matter to the sheriff. Give me the items, or pay the agreed-upon amount." Her chin raised a notch.

Mrs. Clayton's eyes darted around the room, as if looking for any excuse to turn Willow away. Finally, she huffed and walked over to the hotel’s check-in desk, reached behind, and pulled out paper bills. She stalked toward Willow and shoved the money unceremoniously into Willow's hands. "Here, take it. I can't be bothered with the inconvenience of changing now, and while the quality of the workmanship is inferior, I'll keep the garments and hope the stitches don't come out after the first washing."

Reminding herself that building her business was her number one priority, Willow swallowed the acidic comment lingering on her tongue. "Thank you for your business."

Mrs. Clayton rolled her eyes disgustedly, her gaze finally landing on Miss Winthrop. "And you, you beggar, I'd better not see you step one foot into this establishment again, without being able to pay in advance for your stay. Now get out."

"But—"

Before Miss Winthrop could utter another word, Willow hooked her arm through the woman's, and glared at the rude, unfeeling Mrs. Clayton. "Miss Winthrop and I were just leaving. She'll have no need to step foot in your establishment again, because she'll be staying with me."

"With you?" Miss Winthrop asked softly. "I couldn't possib—"

Willow squeezed her arm. "Of course, you are. Now, we really must be going. Mrs. Clayton." Willow lowered her head only a fraction of an inch, refusing to waste any other social niceties on the woman.

Willow and Miss Winthrop took their leave as Mrs. Clayton's putrid form shook with indignation. Willow knew it said something terrible about her, but she was pleased. Not only had she secured payment, she'd also gotten revenge. Infuriating Mrs. Clayton had been the extra sugar in her lemonade.

When the door closed behind them and they stepped onto the boardwalk, Willow let out an aggrieved sigh. "I generally like most people, but that woman is like a tick under my skin. Now," Willow stopped their progress as she turned and looked at the woman beside her. "I didn't give you a choice back there, but if there's somewhere else you'd like to go instead of staying with me, I'm fine with that."

Miss Winthrop didn't meet her eyes. "I don't have anywhere else to go."

Willow studied the lady, the frustration and aggression from their earlier conversation with Mrs. Clayton dissipating. "What about your family?"

Miss Winthrop shook her head. "They're still back east."

"You came out here all alone? Are you a bride?"

"Not a bride." She laughed humorlessly. "I'm nothing."

Willow wasn't normally thrown off-guard, but this instance was an exception. "What's your name?"

"Abigail Winthrop. Well, Abby. I've decided I want to be called Abby from now on." Her chin raised as if she were expecting Willow to argue over the name change.

Willow took in the woman's dress again. It was even finer up close than when she'd seen it from across the room in the hotel. The stitches were so tiny she could barely see them, and the fabric appeared to have been spun by fairies, silky and smooth. Abby was obviously a lady of means. Whatever had prompted her to flee to Promise Creek must have been significant. "I think Abby is a wonderful name. Strong, dependable, feminine. I like it." Willow smiled.

Abby's shoulders fell. "Thank you," she said, drawing out the words. "I'm sorry. I’m used to people ordering me around."

"Well," Willow rolled her eyes playfully, "I can't promise not to be bossy. It's something I like to do."

Abby laughed delicately. "I appreciate the warning. And to be fair, I'll let you know right now, I don’t intend to do anything I don’t want to ever again.”

Willow cocked her head. Abby's words were more telling then she probably realized. "I think we'll get along just fine, then. Is there anything you'd like to fetch before I show you the house? It’s a bit of a drive, but not too bad if you'd like to come into town often."

"Sounds like heaven. I have one trunk. Although—" she bit her lip and her eyes darted toward the hotel "—I'm not certain I'll be able to get it."

Fury welled within her. "Oh, we'll get it." Abby was obviously a woman running from something, and she'd landed in a bad situation with Mrs. Clayton. Well, Willow wasn't going to allow anything else to happen to her. Willow could've found herself in such a situation last year, arriving in town only to find that her mail-order groom had ordered himself ten brides instead of one. Fortunately for him, he died three days before they all got there. Otherwise, the women might have strangled him.

It all worked out, though. In exchange for allowing the men in town to court them, the mayor had given them Ivan's house, and his slowly producing mine. Well, it had been slowly producing up until a few months ago. Now, they'd hit the mother lode, and they were all deliciously wealthy. Wealth aside, Willow was still moving forward with her business. She needed something to keep her busy.

Willow patted Abby's arm. "Wait here, and I'll be back in just a moment."

"But what will you do?"

"I think that should be obvious." Willow grinned, thinking of just what she would say to Mrs. Clayton. "I'm going to get your trunk."

The slow smile that brightened Abby's face filled Willow with satisfaction, and she realized she missed this type of companionship. She was the last unmarried bride, and being last was a lonely business.

Chapter 2

Rhys Winthrop was a man who got what he was after. Businessmen in Manhattan knew him as a ruthless opponent, one who was never to be crossed. When he wanted something, he got it. He didn't care who was in the way, he didn't care who he had to go over, what he desired was his.

But there were certain lines he never crossed. He paid his debts, he never swindled anyone, he only entered into fair deals, and as long as it was deserved, he treated people with respect whether they were the highest Knickerbocker, or the lowliest servant.

So now that he was in Promise Creek, determined to fetch his sister and return home as quickly as possible, he had no doubt he would be able to do so quickly and efficiently. He was almost willing to wager they'd be able to leave on the next train. Almost. Abigail was sweet and kind, loving and giving—most things he wasn't with people outside his family—but she was also one other thing.

Stubborn.

Just like him. It amused him that temperamentally they were so different except in that one area. She'd hidden it better, forced to conform to the rules of society, but he still remembered their arguments as children, the way she’s hold strong when Mother and Father told her she couldn't do something.

His lips twitched, as he thought of the ways Abigail had gotten around such orders. Though sweet, she was also cunning and brilliant. He'd have to work to convince her to come home.

But how hard could that be?

He stepped off the train onto the bustling platform, sweeping his gaze over the buildings, the town, the people, and ruthlessly analyzing them in mere seconds.

It had its charms, he couldn't deny that. He'd been through one too many rough, western towns on his way here, and they'd held little appeal until now.

The buildings had fresh coats of paint, and the boardwalks which connected them were freshly swept with no signs of warping or sinking. The streets looked tidy, as if it were someone's job to clean and maintain them, and the whole atmosphere filled him with a sense of peace he hadn't felt in some time.

He wondered if his sister had stumbled across this place accidentally, or if she’d done her research and come here on purpose. He wouldn't be surprised if she had. It seemed too coincidental for her to end up here.

One of the porters rushed up to him, tugging the brim of his hat in greeting. "Something I can do for you, sir?"

He eyed the elderly gentleman before making a snap decision. "Yes. I'm looking for my sister, Abigail Winthrop. Do you know where she is?" In any other town, no one would know a new woman so quickly, but from the disproportionate number of men milling about, he had a feeling Abigail might have stood out.

The man nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, sir."

Exactly as he'd hoped for. "Excellent. Take me to the hotel, so I can see her."

"She ain't at the hotel."

The man shuffled his feet at Rhys' glare. "Then, where is she?" It took every ounce of willpower to moderate his tone. It was neither this man's fault, nor his responsibility what Abigail did.

"Well, she's at Ivan's house."

"Ivan's house?" His voice rose. "You mean to tell me she’s staying with a man?"

The porter didn't look up. "No sir. Ivan died last year."

Rhys took a deep breath, locking away his frustration. He was more tired than he realized. "Forgive me. I'm weary, but that's no excuse to speak to you thusly. How do I get to Ivan's house?"

The man's gaze darted up in surprise. As if realizing Rhys wasn't a threat, he straightened fully. "You'll follow the path out of town, and eventually you'll come to it."

"And how will I know it's the correct house? I assume there are other houses along the road?"

The man smiled, showing him an exceptionally gappy grin. "Oh. You'll know it. Ivan had a flair for luxury, if you know what I mean."

Rhys frowned. "Do you mean to tell me he built a mansion in the wilderness?"

The man chuckled. "Not quite a mansion, but close. Especially for these parts. Good thing, too. All those women wouldn't have had a place to go."

Rhys had been turning away to leave, but the man's last line had him glancing over his shoulder again. "Which women?"

"His brides, of course."

Rhys's eyes bugged out. "Brides? As in, more than one?"

"Yessiree. The crazy fool ordered ten, if you can believe it. It worked out, though. Now that nine of them married, only one remains. Wonder what will happen to the house after she gets hitched?"

"And my sister is staying with this unmarried woman? Just the two of them alone out there?"

"Yep." The man grinned and tugged on his hat again, before moving on to assist someone else.

Rhys couldn't decide if shock or astonishment filled him. His sister was so bright, he couldn't imagine her putting herself into such a precarious situation. What about her safety? Had she not considered that? And who was this spinster Abigail had formed an attachment with?

Rhys was determined to find out the answers immediately, and was grateful he hadn't been more delayed in arriving. Who knew what else Abigail would've gotten herself into?

Flagging down the porter once again, he gave the man instructions to bring his trunk to the hotel, and paid him handsomely. The man gave him another gap-toothed smile, before rushing off to do his bidding.

With grim determination, Rhys marched into town, set on renting a horse.

He loved his sister dearly, but he would make her see reason, and he would be leaving here shortly with her at his side.

There were no variations to how this would end. Abigail was coming home.

* * *

It had taken some time to procure a horse, but the same as anywhere else, Rhys found that with the right amount of money, anything was possible. With the price he paid, he could've purchased the nag, but it wasn't worth the bother. He had no intention of keeping the animal, and he had every confidence Abigail would return with him by the end of their conversation.

The ride to Ivan's home was a surprise. Peaceful, picturesque, exactly how he'd imagined the West would be. His busy life, the crowded streets, the congested air in New York seemed a million miles away. Out here, it was like nothing else existed.

He took a bracing breath, enjoying the fresh, crisp air. He needed to take more time off to relax, to let go of the endless bustle. That was the only positive result out of coming here. He hadn't realized how close he'd been to a mental and physical collapse. His fast-paced, high-stress lifestyle was what he knew, but if he wanted to sustain it, he needed to make sure he took care of himself, as well.

As soon as he was able, he intended to take a vacation. A real vacation. One where he could spend his time doing things other than gallivanting off to the edge of the civilized world, hunting down his runaway sister, and wishing she’d never left in the first place.

He was blowing out a slow breath as he rounded a curve in the road, and the house came into view. Instantly, he knew this was Ivan's house. He wouldn't classify it as a mansion, but it was large, its two elegant stories putting most other houses he'd seen to shame.

He urged the horse forward and dismounted once on the property, silently saying a prayer of gratitude they both made it in one piece.

He patted the horse’s neck. "I promise, old girl, you'll get as many treats as you want once we get back to town. You've earned it." He briskly rubbed the beast's shoulder one final time, before turning toward the house.

A man rested on a bench outside, and he eyed Rhys' approach. "Who are you?"

Rhys straightened at the man's tone. "Rhys Winthrop. I'm here to speak with my sister, Abigail. And you?" His tone wasn't exactly friendly, but how was he supposed to react when a strange man was outside the house where her sister was staying?

He inspected Rhys as if trying to decide if he was telling the truth. Finally, he stood. "I'm Jared Simpson, Miss Willow Packer's bodyguard."

Rhys' posture immediately loosened. "I see."

"I'll head around back and check on things while you visit." He tipped his hat. "Good day." He disappeared around the side of the house before Rhys could formulate a reply.

Not wasting another moment, he strode forward and knocked briskly on the wooden door.

An older woman opened the door, a warm smile on her face. Silver threaded through almost pure black hair, but her skin held few wrinkles. "May I help you?"

Rhys made sure to keep his posture loose and unintimidating. "I'm here to see Abigail Winthrop. I understand she's staying here."

Rhys was surprised when the woman frowned. "I'm not sure she—"

"Sylvia? Who is that?"

Rhys hadn't seen the woman who'd spoken, but her words filtered through the doorway and stroked him like a caress. Her voice was husky and rough, and instantly intrigued him. He caught movement over the servant’s shoulder, and his eyes immediately followed and held.

The woman who approached was breathtaking. Fine strands of gold-spun hair curled and tumbled over her shoulders. Her garments were exquisite, cut to perfection to showcase her attributes. And those attributes were outstanding. He swallowed, hoping his tongue wasn't lost with the movement, and shook himself out of his stupor.

The woman whispered to Sylvia, and although the housekeeper looked as though she wanted to argue, she eventually deferred and went back to her other duties, leaving the goddess before him. "How may I help you?" she asked.

Rhys cleared his throat, jarred he’d lost focus. He straightened. "I'm here to see Abigail Winthrop." The woman eyed him from head-to-toe, and he wondered what she thought.

"I don't know you. Are you new in town?"

"I arrived today, on the train." She took a step closer to him, filling the doorway as if to keep him out. His lips twitched, finding her attitude intriguing.

"Then what could you possibly want with Miss Winthrop?"

He rocked back on his heels, unintimidated. "I believe that's between my sister and me."

Willow's mouth dropped open, but she recovered quickly. "Your sister?"

He nodded. "Didn't she tell you about me?" She eyed him like a bug under glass, and it took everything he had to keep a straight face.

"If you're her brother, then what's your name?"

"Rhys." He folded his arms. "But that's an easy question. If I were a stranger, only posing as her brother, that would be an easy thing to find out." Rhys' name had been splashed about in papers throughout the country on a regular basis. "If you really want to know if I'm her brother, you'll have to ask me to reveal more personal details."

Her lips pressed together as she studied him, and he wondered what exactly she’d come up with.

"The animal you prized above all else when you were ten, and somehow ended up in Abby's bed, what kind of animal was it, and what was its name?"

Rhys guffawed. First, what on earth had Abigail been thinking, sharing such information? Second, no one had ever called her Abby in her life. He shook his head in chagrin. "It was a horned lizard named Horney." He coughed. "Because he had horned scales."

The woman held a straight face for a moment, before collapsing against the door in a fit of giggles. "I honestly didn't think you'd own up to that."

If he thought the woman would've been offended, he was wrong. A grin broke on his face. "Had I refused to answer, you wouldn't have believed I was really her brother."

Still laughing, she shrugged. "Not necessarily. You do look a lot alike. Same shade of brown hair," she said, tipping her chin toward the top of his head, "and the same intriguing green eyes." As if realizing she’d paid him a compliment, she cleared her throat, and the smile slipped from her lips.

A spark lit within him, knowing she was attracted to him, at least slightly. "The eye color comes from our mother." Some of the awkwardness left at his words.

"That's what Abby said, as well."

"You keep calling her Abby. She's only ever gone by Abigail."

Willow cocked her head. "Sometimes in life, we need a change. No one heads West if they are satisfied with their life. New life, new name." She shrugged.

"And is that what you did?" He knew he shouldn't ask, should only focus on his sister, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. There was something about this woman, something that intrigued him and made him want to know more.

She stiffened in the doorframe. "My story is my own. But from what I've already said, you can assume I had no choice."

He nodded slowly. "I understand. But Abigail had a choice. She didn't need to come here, wasn’t forced. She has a life in Manhattan, a good one, one where she's taken care of. She's never wanted for anything."

The woman's brow arched. "People need more than just money."

If he were a weaker man, he would've flinched, her words hitting closer to the mark than he would've liked. Their father had been rough, ambitious, brutal—same as himself. But what their father had lacked, Rhys had developed. Those same traits, paired with compassion and fairness, had taken Winthrop hotels from ramshackle buildings to palaces. Rhys had done what his father had only dreamed, but Rhys knew the man wouldn't have even been proud, because he hadn't accomplished it himself. Their father had always thought giving his wife and children money would make them happy. How wrong he'd been. And Rhys would never make the same mistake.

"It's true she would never want for money, but if you've been led to believe she wasn't loved and cared for, that was a mistake. Her mother and I love her very much, and we just want what's best for her."

"And you don't think she can choose that for herself?"

Rhys knew he should agree, that it would garner this woman's support, but he wouldn't lie. "My sister is smart, but in some things, it's better to lay out a path to keep the ones we love safe."

The woman’s smile was slow, but deadly. "Wrong answer. I suggest you check into the hotel. I fear you’re going to have a long stay ahead of you, if you think to bully Abby into leaving with you. And as a matter fact, I think you and Mrs. Clayton will get along just perfectly." She slammed the door in his face, before he could say anything in return.

Chapter 3

Willow waited behind the closed door, assuming Rhys would only knock again to continue the conversation. Surprisingly, though, he didn't.

After a few moments, footsteps sounded as he walked away from the door, and she was surprised he'd relented so quickly.

She relaxed, but she stood up a little straighter, pleased she'd chased him off. He was a bully, and if there was one thing Willow couldn't abide, it was bullies.

Sometimes you had to lay out a path for people you love so they'd stay safe? Utter nonsense. If you loved someone, you let them have their agency, you let them choose for themselves.

She blew out a long breath, and wondered what she was going to tell Abby.

"Who was that?" Abby walked into the room, a soft smile on her face.

Willow winced. She'd hoped to have time to think about what to say to her, but at least she hadn't walked in while her brother was there. "Maybe you should sit down."

The smile slowly left Abby's lips. "It was him, wasn't it? Rhys?"

Willow blew out another long breath, and then nodded. "It was."

Abby glanced over Willow's shoulder to the closed door and wrung her hands. "Did he leave?"

"He did. I told him to go stay in the hotel with that awful Mrs. Clayton. They'll be two peas in a pod."

Giggles burst from Abby's lips. "I highly doubt that. More than likely, Rhys will take the woman to task."

Willow wasn't convinced. "At least they'll make each other miserable."

Abby frowned. "I think I gave you the wrong impression about Rhys. He truly is wonderful."

"Uh-huh."

"It's true. I never meant to make him out to be a villain. In all honesty, my brother is wonderful. I love him, and I know he loves me." She cocked her head. "He might be a bit overbearing at times, but I guess it's the job of a big brother."

Willow moved forward and took Abby's hands. "I'm glad you feel as though he's been a good brother to you. But I want you to know you don't have to go with him. You can stay here, if you want."

Abby squeezed Willow's hands, before lowering them and smiling regretfully. "I appreciate the offer, truly. But I don't know how that will be possible. My brother has always been loving towards me, but more than anything, he's determined and stubborn. He'll do whatever he needs to, to make sure I come home with him. Cut off my funds, remain here, anything. I should've stayed silent about where I was going, but I couldn't bear to do that to both Rhys and my mother. I didn't want them to worry."

"That's because you're a good person. You shouldn't regret that."

Abby smiled. "All the same, Rhys will end up getting his way."

Willow just couldn't accept that, couldn't accept that the bully would win, here. "You don't have to let him. You have other options."

Abby held up her hands. "Not really. I didn't even have enough money to sleep one more night in the hotel. If I end up staying, how will I eat, or support myself? Where will I stay? I should've prepared more carefully, but there's nothing I can do about that now."

Abby's shoulders slumped, but Willow refused to give in. "You're not alone here. I'll help you, and I know Ivan's other brides, the women I told you about, will, too."

"You're too nice." She shook her head softly. "But I don't think it will work, long-term. I mean to make my own way and not live off of anyone's charity."

Willow waved her comment away. "I'm not talking about charity. I told you how I got here, how all Ivan's brides did. This town gave us a start, a haven we wouldn't have had otherwise. I'm offering the same to you, and I know the others will support me. You’re a woman on your own, and that's what this house is all about. Taking care of women who need help. Besides, I'm the last one. And this house is pretty big." She waved around at the massive two-story entry, as if demonstrating her point.

Abby snorted. "It is rather grand, isn't it? I wish I could've met Ivan, to see what he was really like."

Willow laughed. "People said he was crazy."

"He'd have to be, to order ten brides." They giggled a moment before sobering. "I would really love to stay. But I need some way to support myself."

Inspiration tingled through Willow. She looked at the gown Abby was wearing, another exquisite creation. "Your dresses are amazing. I'm assuming they were created by a very talented seamstress."

Abby looked down at the frothy, yellow material. "Yes. The best, actually." She looked almost guilty.

"There's nothing wrong with that. It sounds like you came from money."

Abby bit her lip and nodded. "My family has always had money. My father built his business by purchasing inns, and then later, hotels. Since he died, Rhys has taken over the business, and has expanded beyond our imagination."

Thunderstruck, Willow gaped. "Wait… Winthrop," Willow said slowly. "Winthrop hotels?"

Abby’s smile held little amusement. "Those are the ones."

Willow couldn't believe it. She'd assumed Abby was wealthy, but the kind of money it took to build an empire like the Winthrops' was astronomical.

"Are you rethinking helping me?" Abby asked, when Willow's silence continued.

"No. Absolutely not. I was just surprised, but none of that matters. What I was getting at, was that ladies of a certain social position—" she gestured to Abby's gown "—while they would never deign to sew their own garments, they usually have sewing skills."

Abby's eyes brightened. "I do! I can stitch very well."

"Good! That's what I was hoping for. You see, I have a business selling dresses, and the demand is higher than I can meet. It would be better if I could take someone on to help me," she said, allowing Abby the opportunity to think it over.

But she didn't need any time. Abby grabbed Willow's hands. "Yes! Yes, I would love that. I could help you sew the dresses, or even give some ideas for design." She bit her lip, looking uncertain. "If that's all right."

Willow laughed. "Of course! I need all the help I can get. Creatively and otherwise. There might not be as many women in town compared to men, but believe me, there are more than enough clients who need our services."

Excited, Abby clapped her hands. "This is perfect. Thank you so much. I've been so worried, but this is exactly what I needed to make it. I still don't know about staying long-term, but your employment offer makes it so I can stay for now."

Willow huffed. "I already told you. You’re staying here as long as you want." After saying that again, Willow wondered yet again why the woman had run away. She wanted to ask Abby, but they were just starting their friendship, and as such, it wasn't Willow's place to ask such a thing.

"There's something I have to do," Abby said, her face falling into determined lines.

"What is it?"

Abby exhaled a large breath. "I need to speak with Rhys. I need to help him understand I'm not returning. As I said, he's stubborn. He could end up staying here for years, if I don't nip this in the bud."

Willow understood what Abby meant, but she was worried if she spoke with her brother too soon, she would be persuaded to leave. "I'm worried he might push you to do something you don't want to," she said honestly.

Abby chuckled. "I am, too. But I still have to do it."

"Would you like me to go with you?" Willow may not be able to help in the conversation, but she could be there, silently supporting Abby's decision.

"Would you? That would help so much."

Willow could hear the relief in Abby's voice. "Of course. We're friends now, and friends stick together."

And no matter what, Willow was determined to help Abby through this situation.

* * *

Rhys was a driven man, and usually thinking of several things at once. So, he wasn't surprised when he walked into the hotel in Promise Creek, instantly thinking of all the ways he could improve it.

It needed a remodel, some new paint. It also needed plants. Lush and green, to bring in both a sense of luxury and peace.

The entry wasn't grand, but it had character, and character was more intriguing than opulence. This place was so far beneath what he normally acquired, but the desire to purchase it was surprisingly strong.

He rubbed the back of his neck. He must be more tired than he realized, to have such fanciful thoughts. This hotel wasn't a wise financial choice. It was on the smaller side, and Promise Creek wasn't exactly bustling with visitors. Honestly, he was surprised it turned a profit at all.

As he stepped farther into the lobby, a portly woman in an unfortunate pea-green dress started toward him.

She eyed his clothes, the fine chain that led to the pocket watch hidden in his vest. Her eyes lit, and he could see the way she calculated how much money she could relieve him of.

Pure greed. His lips thinned. He'd seen this type of behavior before, and was prepared for an increase in lodging fees due to his perceived funds.

"Good afternoon, sir. Welcome to the Promise Creek Hotel. Are you looking for a room?"

"I am. I don't know how long I'll be staying though."

"Well—" she flicked the fan on her wrist open "—as long as you have payment for the room, that should be just fine, Mr…?"

"Winthrop."

The fan snapped closed, and all veneer of friendliness vanished form the woman's face. "By any chance, are you related to Abigail Winthrop?"

Rhys didn't like the woman's tone. "I am. She's my sister." She tapped her fan on his chest in an unfriendly way, and Rhys was impressed he didn't snap it in two.

"If that's the case, I'll need your full payment upfront. I don't care how well you're dressed, I don't allow beggars in my establishment."

Her words were so ludicrous, he coughed to hide his astonishment. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, don't act all high and mighty with me. I see right through you. Same as your sister. You might have enough to dress yourself well, but I'm no fool. You pay your funds upfront, or you'll be thrown out just like her." Her lip curled. "Miss Packer was a fool for taking her in."

He stilled. "Do you mean to tell me you turned Abigail Winthrop out of your hotel?"

His tone must've broken through her indignant attitude. She took a step away from him in a defensive gesture. "As I said, I don't allow beggars here."

Her words astounded him. "You turned a lone woman out of your establishment? A woman of obvious good breeding?"

"I guess it's all a matter of opinion, isn't it?" She sneered.

Her condescending attitude was the last straw. "My sister is an heiress, and will inherit millions. Not only did you throw her out, but you've made an enemy of me, and I'll make sure you go out of business."

The woman opened and closed her mouth repeatedly. "You can't do that."

He leaned forward. "Oh yes, I can. You have no idea what I'm capable of. Especially when it comes to hotels."

The woman's eyes narrowed, as if she were about to deliver a scathing retort, but before she uttered a word she gasped, her eyes widening, the color draining from her face. "Winthrop…"

"That's right."

"Winthrop hotels. You mean to tell me…"

Rhys didn't answer, just let the woman continue to fumble.

Her fan flipped open again, and she fanned her face furiously. Rhys could see her trying to figure out a way to rectify the situation. But there was nothing she could do. Once crossed, Rhys never relented. If the woman had merely been rude to him, he would've let it go. But to think of his sister alone, afraid, out of money, and at the mercy of such a woman, filled him with anger. Instead of helping Abigail, this woman had only injured her further. "I assume the hotel belongs to your husband. Am I correct?"

"Yes."

She didn't say anything else, and Rhys thought it was the first smart thing she'd done since they'd met. "I'd like to speak with him now. And if I were you, I would remain out of my sight for the rest of my stay."

The woman's teeth were set on edge, but she must've thought better of commenting, and held her tongue. "I'll get Mr. Clayton immediately. If you like, I can have him meet you in the dining room. There's a private room you could meet in."

Although he was starving, Rhys had no intention of sharing a meal with this woman's husband. "His office will be sufficient."

She nodded, not quite looking him in the eye before gesturing for him to follow her.

As he trailed behind her through several hallways, he took note of the hotel operations. How the workers moved, how well things were stocked, the upkeep of the hotel in areas that guests never saw.

As he stepped into Mr. Clayton's office, he said the one thing that didn't make any sense, logically or financially, but felt right. "I'm here to buy your hotel."

Chapter 4

By the time he'd settled the paperwork with the bank and had ordered a telegraphic transfer for the funds, Rhys was exhausted and starving. He'd asked for a tray during the negotiations, but it hadn't been enough.

The hotel was his, even if it would take a bit of time to file proper paperwork to make it completely official. The Claytons were already gone, and gossip was spreading through the employees like wildfire, after Mr. Clayton's announcement about the change in ownership.

He ate his meal quickly, almost without tasting it, but took note to improve the menu to bring in more revenue. The waiters looked at him anxiously, but he wasn't ready to formally address them yet. He'd look around a bit more before saying anything.

He walked out of the dining room and into the hotel lobby. He watched the guests coming and going, and realized he might've been wrong, at first. There wasn't a crowd, but people filtered in at a steady pace. The hotel wouldn't be a raving success compared to some of his other ventures, but neither would it be a drain, and this pleased him. Not that it mattered. He would've bought it anyway. There was something about it that pulled at him, and while he didn't often indulge in such whims, he had done so here without even blinking.

He turned away from his view of the front desk, ready to examine another section of the hotel, when two women and a man stepped to the door, catching his eye.

His heart heaved a sigh of relief when he saw his sister glancing around the room anxiously, but otherwise looking well. He looked past her and latched gazes with Willow Packer.

The woman's brow raised in challenge, and he couldn't help but feel amusement. Rhys was used to women who simpered and deferred, choosing to behave subserviently. He thought he enjoyed the delicate nature of those women, but Willow's spirit set him on fire, intrigued him, and made him need to know more. Not only was she gorgeous, but she was strong, and determined.

And besides that, she'd protected his sister. Regardless of anything else, because of what she’d done, he was indebted to her.

Abigail's eyes finally fell on him, and she sent him a smile which trembled at the end. But instead of retreating, she pushed forward, and Willow trailed behind her, leaving her bodyguard to linger near the door.

"Hello, Rhys," Abigail said, her hands down at her sides, gripping her dress.

He hated to see his sister so distressed over speaking with him. "I'm glad to see you, Abigail. I was worried."

She looked down, as if ashamed. "I never meant to worry you. I tried to explain to both you and Mother I wasn't ready, but you didn't understand."

In truth, Rhys still didn't understand. They hadn't demanded she marry anyone in particular, just that it was time to choose a man and settle down. "There will be plenty of time to talk about it, but now is not the right time."

Abigail glanced around the room, and finally nodded. "We can speak about it again when we have more privacy."

Rhys nodded. "I'll have our train car connected, and we can leave tomorrow."

Abigail shook her head. "I'm not leaving. I'm here to speak with you, to reassure you, but I won't be returning east with you."

"Abigail—"

"Abby," she said, correcting him. "Here, I'm going by Abby."

He reeled at what she was saying. She'd never gone by anything but Abigail. "Abigai—Abby," he said, correcting himself. "I don't understand."

Abby slipped her hand into his. "I know. But just trust me, this is what I need. It's what I want."

Rhys tried, but he just couldn't accept her answer. He was about to ask for more information, clarification, when Willow stepped forward. "Mr. Winthrop, might I have a moment of your time?"

His sister looked gratefully at Willow, and after a moment, he agreed. "All right. Why don’t we go back and talk in the office?"

"The office?" both women asked.

"I'll explain later."

They seem satisfied with that. He gestured down the hall, allowing Willow to go first after she waved off Jared. Before he left, he turned to his sister. "We still have a lot to discuss."

"I know." She straightened her spine. "But know it won't change my mind, Rhys."

He couldn't help stepping closer and kissing her forehead. "We'll talk about it later." He still wasn't willing to agree to her staying.

She only smiled at him.

He nodded to Willow, and the woman turned and made her way down the hall. Trying to remain a gentleman, he kept his eyes on the back of her head, instead of allowing them to trail lower, over her gently swaying curves that kept tugging at his attention. It was more difficult than it should be, but he managed it by pure determination.

He'd been attracted to many women in the past, women who were more beautiful, more delicate, and everything he thought he liked. But for some reason, none of them stood out in his mind now. Not like Willow did. He wasn't sure why she drew him so completely, and it puzzled him. Which was a problem. He'd always liked puzzles. He liked putting them together, pulling them apart, focusing on each and every edge of the pieces until he understood how they fit together so perfectly.

He'd never had that kind of fascination with a woman before, and part of him, while intrigued, worried what it meant. It wouldn't be wise to form an attachment to this woman. "Turn right. Second door on the left."

She didn't look back at him, just followed his instructions. For some reason, that made him smile. Everyone he knew did what he said. But that was because they were his employees, they wanted something from him, or they were afraid. He knew none of those reasons applied to Willow. No, she did what he said because she felt like it.

They stepped to the door, and when she paused, he reached for the handle, opening it for her.

A desk drawer slammed shut inside the room, and Rhys pushed Willow to the side and out of range of whoever was lurking inside. No one should be in his private office.

He filled the doorway with his towering frame, knowing it was the only way out of the room. "Who are you?"

Willow had been about to ask Rhys something, but as if realizing something was amiss, she'd snapped her lips closed.

Rhys tried to block her out, to focus on the man, but her presence there distracted him. He was already thinking of ways to protect her, if it came to that.

The man inside was dressed in a uniform, but his downward-tilted, flushed face made it impossible to tell who he was. When he didn't answer the question, Rhys took another step into his office. "Answer me. Who are you, and what are you doing in my office?"

"I'm Connor, Mr. Winthrop, sir."

"Well, Connor, what are you doing in here, snooping in my desk?" His tone turned grim. "Are you stealing?"

Connor's face jerked up and Rhys was subjected to a young visage and rounded, blue eyes. "No, sir! I wouldn't, sir. I was only looking for…something."

Rhys' head cocked. "And what is that?"

"Well," the young man shifted. "You see, I haven't made my fortune yet, and I was hoping I'd find a clue to lead me to DP's hoard."

Willow snorted behind him, only confusing him, but he didn't turn to her. "DP's hoard?"

"Yes, sir. I was hoping there was something here Mr. Clayton kept, or didn't know about. A clue. I thought with the new change in management, I might have a chance to look around." His head lowered again, and Rhys knew guilt wove through the fellow. What he'd done was wrong, but he'd been desperate.

Rhys had no idea what DP's hoard was, but it was obviously something important. "I take it you didn't find anything."

"I only had enough time to look in two drawers," he answered frankly, giving Rhys the reason he was looking for to keep him employed. He rewarded honesty.

Rhys waited until his employee glanced up. "Connor, I know a change in management is a difficult thing. I know things have been problematic around here, but I promise you'll be well taken care of now that I'm in charge. If you are loyal to me. I will let this slide, because I don't know what it was like under Clayton's management, but if you ever do something like this again, you'll be out of a job. Do you understand me."

Connor brightened. "Yes, sir!"

"Good. Now leave, and get back to your duties."

Connor didn't have to be told twice. He made his way across the room, and as he was about to pass, he said, "Thank you, sir."

Rhys nodded, allowing him to leave, and he watched as the man fled down the hall. He blew out a breath and gestured for Willow to enter the room. She glanced one more time down the hall before stepping in and closing the door. "Well, that was exciting."

He didn't know why, but he laughed. "Unfortunately, after having caught employees stealing in the past, I'm afraid the excitement has worn off."

She leaned back against the door. "But as he said, he wasn't stealing. He was looking for clues." Her eyes glimmered with amusement.

"Is there a difference?"

"Oh, yes." She pushed away from the door. "Treasure hunting isn't the same as theft."

"Treasure? Is that what DP's hoard is?"

She nodded and moved toward the desk, glancing over the papers lying there. "Yes. Since you're new in town, and apparently the new owner of the hotel—" she tapped the official pages on the desk "—congratulations, by the way. Anyway, you should know what you're in for."

He had a feeling he didn't really want to know. He'd purchased this hotel on a whim. Something he never allowed himself to do, and he'd already had a handful of headaches from it. He gestured for her to take a seat, and sat in his own across the desk once she was settled. "I feel as though we should get comfortable for this explanation."

Her laugh floated through the air, and he was surprised to find he liked it a little too much. It wasn't forced, like so many women he'd associated with back home, where they felt they needed to give false amusement to appease him. Willow's enjoyment was honest and real, and he found it much more appealing than what he'd been treated to in the past.

"There isn't that much to the story," she said, settling in. "Apparently, there was a miner who lived here some time back who'd cashed out his claim. He had a hoard full of gold, jewels, and cash, but rumor has it he hid it here, somewhere in the hotel, for safekeeping until he could put it in the bank. Unfortunately, before he could move it and deposit it somewhere safe, he was shot in a gambling hall. No one ever found his fortune."

"I take it this man was named DP?"

"Mm-hmm. DP's hoard."

"So, people believe the cache is still in the hotel somewhere? But no one has found any clues?" The idea intrigued him. He had more money than he could ever spend, but there was something appealing about finding lost treasure. Apparently, that aspect of boyhood never died.

She shrugged. "That's what people say."

"But you don't believe it?"

"I'm not sure. It's just a legend, but legends have to start from something. The fact is, no one knows if it was ever really here. And even though the Claytons wouldn't have allowed their employees to tear the place down, I'm sure they've looked everywhere they could. Besides, if it was here, someone could have found it already and quietly took it home. They wouldn't want to spread the news."

She was right. That made perfect sense. "True. But I like the idea. In fact," he paused a moment, musing over an idea. "I think we can capitalize on it."

"Pardon?"

"Well, people are intrigued with the legend. Perhaps we could spin it somehow, to draw in more business."

Her straight face turned into one of amusement. "Abby told me a few things about you. How you're ruthless, cunning, a sharp businessman. I believed her, but until this moment, I didn't know how right she was."

He wasn't sure if he should be offended or pleased with the assessment. "I've never denied my nature. I'm sharp, but I've always been fair. It's not a crime to make money."

She shook her head. "You'll never hear otherwise from me. I didn't grow up wealthy. In fact, I was a servant in a large house and was forced to flee. If you can make money ethically, I'm all for it. It's why I started my own business."

As he processed her words, anger filled him. She hadn't explicitly said it, but something had happened to her. Something bad enough where she'd fled and had become a mail-order bride. The thought infuriated him more than it should, but he tamped down the feeling, and focused on the other things she'd said. "You started your own business?"

She sat up a little straighter. "Yes. Is that a problem?"

He held up his hands. "Absolutely not. I'm impressed. Not many single women would take on such a venture. What is it you do?"

"I design and sew luxury gowns. Even though there's not a large percentage of women compared to men in Promise Creek, the women who do live here are in desperate need of good, stylish clothing. I'm filling that need."

His eyes trailed over her modest, lavender dress, noting the luxurious materials and tasteful embellishments. "Is that one of your creations?" She squirmed in her chair as he continued to look over the gown, and his eyes met hers, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

"It is."

"Exquisite." At his praise, she stilled, and her eyes widened. "What? Am I not allowed to commend you for your work?"

"It's not that." Her eyes went to the floor, as if unable to meet his. "I guess I just assumed you wouldn't appreciate it, or you would see the labor as beneath you."

He scoffed. "I've already said I'm a businessman and that I work hard, haven't I? I don't frown on getting your hands dirty to make a living."

"But most men in your position do," she said, knowingly. "I didn't realize how wealthy Abby was at first. At least not until after your visit, when she told me your name and what your family does. Then it all clicked into place. Winthrop hotels. I used to walk past the one in Boston on my way to work each day. It's stunning."

He knew exactly the one to which she was referring. "It was one of the early ones. Older, established, and grander. What most people expect."

She glanced around the office. "I would have thought this place beneath you."

He looked around the interior of the room, taking in the peeling paint, the water stain on the ceiling, the scuffed, worn floorboards that desperately needed to be refinished. He noted all these things, but instead of writing the place off, he saw something else.

Potential.

This hotel had the possibility of being something great. "It's smaller than most of our other establishments, but it has a lot to offer. It probably wasn't the best investment, but it'll turn a profit. Honestly though, I wouldn't even care. There was something about it that tugged at me, and I had to have it." He glanced at Willow, and wondered what she thought about such a thing. He'd normally never disclose something that personal to a stranger, but he couldn't help it. The words had flowed out without him even thinking it.

She sighed. “There is something about it. I have good memories from this place. Not the fire that ravaged the ballroom a little over a year ago, but I've been here more times than I can count."

He'd seen the newly finished renovations where the fire had damaged the building, but it hadn't been too severe. They were fortunate. He'd seen fire spread so quickly, that at times, nothing of buildings were salvageable. "I hope you'll create more over the years."

"I hope so, too," she said, before finally blowing out a breath. "We were interrupted by Connor's hasty searching, but I asked to speak with you for a reason."

She'd turned serious again, and he followed suit. "Speak your mind."

Her lips quirked as if she were amused he thought she'd do anything but. In truth, he didn't. "All right. It'll be easier to be frank. I know you want Abby to return east, but she has no intention nor desire to do so. She's worried you'll bully her to get your way, and I want you to know I'm not going to let that happen. As long as she wants to stay, I will help her."

"What if she changes her mind and wants to leave with me?"

"Then I'll help her do that," she said, matter-of-factly. "The point is, I'm going to do whatever will make her happy. I don't care how rich or powerful you are, and I wanted you to know you can't intimidate me."

He tried to hide his smile. "Good to know."

"Also," she continued, ignoring him. "I've offered Abby a place in my home. She can stay as long as she needs. She was also concerned about funds, and while I hope you don't cut her off financially, she'll be working for me, so she isn't dependent on you. So, you see, you really have no power to sway her."

He steepled his fingers, eyeing her. Willow was an opponent. Intelligent, brave, and cunning. He'd respected her before, when she'd stood up to him, but her speech just now raised his respect several more notches. She was challenging him, and while such things would normally annoy him in the past, he had to admit he was actually enjoying it.

"First, I want to thank you for taking care of my sister." She jerked as if surprised by his praise. "Mrs. Clayton is an odious woman, and while I don't have the particulars, I know you helped Abigail in a difficult situation. I'm also grateful she's made a friend who is willing to stand up for her. Such people, true friendships, are rare in our world. That being said—" she visibly tensed at his words "—I still intend for Abigail to come home. I'm not planning to leave without her. My business can run without me for some time, and now that I've purchased the hotel, I'll have more than enough to keep me busy and wait her out. It's charming here, but I don't think it's what she really wants."

She shook her head slowly. "I wouldn't be too sure about that."

"Regardless, it's what I believe."

Willow stood from the chair and smoothed her skirts. "Well, Mr. Winthrop, I hope you enjoy admitting when you're wrong. Because I'm certain you'll be doing just that before long."

He stood, and he knew amusement lit his eyes. "We'll see, Miss Packer."

"Oh. You might as well call me Willow. I have a feeling we'll be seeing much of each other."

"Rhys, then."

She looked at him warily, but then finally nodded and held out her hand. "Let the best person win."

He grinned and took her hand in his. Instead of shaking it, he held it and placed his other hand over hers, enjoying the sizzling connection which arced between them. She gasped at it, too, but didn't tug her hand away, just looked at him warily. "I look forward to seeing the outcome," he said softly.

She tugged her hand finally, and he reluctantly let it go, pleased when she rubbed her hand on her skirt, as if trying to rid it of the tingles he still felt shooting inside him. "Please tell Abigail I'd like to speak with her before she leaves."

Willow moved toward the door. "I will. Good day, Mr. Winthrop—Rhys."

He nodded. "Willow," he said, a moment before she slipped through the door.

When her footsteps trailed off, he found himself smiling. His trip wasn't turning out anything like he'd expected, but the funny part was, he didn't even feel bad about it.

He whistled as he began clearing the paperwork off his desk.

Chapter 5

"Abby, I'm telling you, this is pointless," Willow said, climbing out of the wagon.

It had taken some practice, but Willow was impressed by the way Abby swung down off the vehicle unassisted, like she'd done so her whole life.

As Abby rounded the horses, Willow took in her heightened appearance. Her cheeks were flushed, strands of her sable hair had fallen loose, and her grass-green eyes were lit with excitement. "You said there was a treasure hidden somewhere in the hotel. And you think I'm just going to stay home?" She laughed as if that wasn't even a possibility.

"It's just a legend!"

"Legends are based on truths," she said, with a sing-song lilt.

Willow laughed and threw up her hands. She couldn't argue with her. She'd said the same thing to Rhys the day before. "Did you tell Rhys you were coming back today?"

"Of course not. I didn't know about the treasure when I talked to him."

Willow rolled her eyes before glancing to her bodyguard. "I'll be inside the hotel for most of the day. If you want, you can wander around town. I'll make sure to have someone find you before we leave."

Jared tipped his hat in acknowledgement, but he didn't move from his location. Willow sighed, wondering if he'd remain in that spot the rest of the day.

She walked with Abby into the hotel lobby. "I really wish having Jared around wasn't necessary. I feel bad for the man. He can't possibly enjoy following me around all day, no matter how much he's getting paid.

"Oh, don't worry about him." Abby reached for Willow's hand, and squeezed it with excitement. "Now, come on! I'm ready to find some treasure." She grinned like a child on Christmas morning.

Willow laughed again and followed her into the hotel. She walked to the front desk and smiled at the man there. "Good morning, William."

The young man touched the brim of his hat in greeting. "Miss Packer. Miss Winthrop. A pleasure to see both of you." He turned his full attention to Abby. "Miss, on behalf of everyone at the hotel, I want to be the first to apologize for what happened during your stay here. Mrs. Clayton was wrong to turn you out."

Abby's stance softened. "That's kind of you. But I don't hold any of you accountable. That was Mrs. Clayton's doing, completely."

The young man sighed with relief, and his eyes turned soft and rounded like a puppy as he gazed at Abby. Willow tried to hold back her laughter. He was obviously smitten with her friend. "William, where can we find Mr. Winthrop?"

"I'm not certain, Miss." His eyes darted to the side toward the dining hall. "He's been busy this morning."

Abby looked at Willow. "That makes sense. I'm sure he has a lot to do. A lot of changes to make."

Before Willow could respond, William interrupted. "He is making a lot of changes, but that's not what kept him so busy."

When both Willow and Abby gave him their full attention, he blushed and shrunk a little as if realizing he shouldn't have said anything.

"Then what has?" Willow asked, prompting him.

"It's been strange, but—"

A woman’s scream and a loud crash sounded throughout the lobby. Abby gasped, but Willow was already running toward the dining room, where the commotion originated.

A woman was sprawled on the floor, hands on her head, while other workers hovered over her.

Before Willow or Abby could say anything, Rhys ran into the room. "Is everyone all right?" he asked, looking from one person to the next. His eyes lingered on Willow an extra second, before returning his attention to the woman sprawled on the floor.

A few of the men backed away as Rhys knelt down, and the woman tried to lean upon her elbows. He shook his head. "No, no. Hold still, I want to make sure you aren’t seriously injured. Does anything hurt?"

"Only my head. I landed on it pretty hard, but I think I'll be all right."

Rhys reached up to the woman's head, but paused. "May I?" he asked before touching her.

"Yes."

The woman held still as Rhys probed her skull. Once satisfied, he leaned back. "You'll have a nasty bump, unfortunately. I would feel better if the doctor checked you over."

The woman's eyes widened, and she shook her head. "Oh no. No, sir. That isn’t necessary."

He frowned. "I'm concerned you might have a concussion, something more serious than just a bump."

"This isn't the first time I've hit my head, and I'm sure it won't be the last. My husband and I would rather not have the expense."

"I will pay for the doctor."

The woman's eyes bugged out. "No, sir! You don't have to do that." She ran her hands down the front of her apron nervously, and Rhys reached out, placing his hand over them, stilling her.

"What's your name?" He asked softly.

"Martha."

"Martha, you're my employee, and you were injured in my hotel. That makes me responsible, and I insist on paying the doctor to check you over. I will pay all expenses. I just want to make sure you’re all right."

The woman's eyes filled with tears and she looked away, and Willow realized her own eyes watered. "Thank you, sir."

Rhys nodded, before glancing around the scene. "Can you tell me what happened? How were you injured?"

She shook her head softly. "It's the strangest thing. I was here, cleaning the windows as instructed. There was nothing around me except my own equipment, but when I turned, that bucket right over there—" she nodded to the metal pail on its side "—was behind me. I tripped over it before I ever saw it."

"And you're sure it wasn't there before? It isn't yours?"

"No. I don't know how it got there."

"Did you see anyone behind you?"

She bit her lip. "No. I was focused on my task. I heard a few people enter and leave the room at times, but no one directly behind me."

He nodded grimly, and Willow wondered what he was thinking. "Thank you, Martha. Now, I want you to head up to one of the empty rooms, and I’ll fetch a doctor for you." He glanced at some of the other workers surrounding him. "Two of you, help Martha to a room, please."

Everyone followed Rhys' orders the moment he stood.

As Martha left the room, Rhys sighed, glancing back at the bucket before turning his attention to Willow and his sister.

He stepped closer to them. "I wasn't expecting to see you again today," he said, looking at Abby. "Should I hope you've reconsidered and have decided to return east with me?"

Abby snorted. "I think you can firmly shove that notion out of your head."

He sighed, as if he weren't expecting anything different. "Well, regardless, I’m happy to see you. Unfortunately, I don't have any time to spare to visit today. Things aren't going well here."

His words tipped off Willow's instincts. "What kind of things? William, the boy at the front desk, was about to tell us something, but then Martha fell. What's happened?"

He blew out a long breath and raked a hand through his hair. "I think the better question is, what hasn't?"

"What do you mean?"

"There have been so many accidents. At first, I wondered if the staff was completely inept and needed training, but now, so many things have happened it doesn't seem coincidental."

Abby looked spooked. "What do you mean? What sorts of things?"

Rhys held up his hands. "Weird things. This bucket incident. Then there was a knife in a pile of dirty laundry that cut someone in housekeeping. Also, there was a pot on the stove that shouldn't have been there. It was clean, and our chef hadn’t made anything yet this morning, but when he reached out and grabbed the handle, it burned him. There have been other small accidents, but those are the highlights, and it’s still morning."

"And there are no explanations for any of them?"

He shook his head. "No. No one knows why the pan was hot, why the knife was in the basket, and how this bucket got here, but they obviously aren't coincidental. Not with so many things happening in succession."

"And no one saw anything?" Willow asked, already knowing no one had.

"No. No one has seen a thing." His face turned grim. "I'm on edge, just waiting for the next thing to happen."

Willow yearned to help, but didn't know what she could do. Abby took his hand. "What can I do to help?"

He smiled down at his sister. "You could always come home. We could still leave today and save me the headache of turning this place around."

Abby let out a short laugh and rolled her eyes. "Not going to happen."

"So, what are you two doing here?" He looked up at Willow, finally meeting her in the eye, and heat reverberated through her.

She'd never had a man affect her with just a look, and she held back shivers. "I told Abby about DP's hoard."

Rhys rocked back on his heels. "Ah. Now I see. You're here for a treasure hunt." He leveled a look at his sister, and she flushed guiltily.

"You know how I am. How could I resist?"

His expression relaxed a little as he chuckled. "I do know. And you're welcome to search every inch of the hotel, but you should know, I've been asking around, and it seems as if the employees have searched high and low."

Willow step forward. "Not everywhere. We're hoping to look into the rooms the Claytons wouldn't have allowed others in."

"That's a good place to start. I wish I could join you."

"Oh, please say you will!" Abby clapped. "I know you're just as intrigued by this is I am."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I really wish I could. There's just so much going on today, and I doubt we're done with the accidents."

Disappointment wove through Willow, and she was surprised by it. Before she could stop yourself, she asked, "But you must take a break at some point, don't you?"

He leaned back and nodded slowly. "Yes. But I didn't think—"

"Good," she said quickly. "It's settled, then. Join us when you have a break, or if no other accident occurs." She offered him a small smile.

"All right."

Abby bumped his arm. "But just so you know, if you find the treasure, it's mine."

He grinned. "I’ll remember that."

Chapter 6

By evening, Rhys had a full-on headache. His skull pounded in time with his heart, and his eyes ached. All he wanted to do was go in his room, close the door, and rest, but there was still more to do. He hadn't even been able to slip away to see Abby and Willow.

He wandered through the hotel, asking employees if they'd seen either of the women, and he quickly made his way to the library.

After some cleaning, Rhys planned to open the library to his guests. It was well-stocked, but the Claytons had hoarded the resource, instead of sharing it. Rhys knew it would only help to drive more people to the property.

Instead of knocking, he opened the door and stepped in. Willow knelt in front of one of the shelves, replacing the books before standing slowly to face him.

"Where's Abigail?" He looked around the room again, as if she would appear at any moment.

Willow interlocked her fingers in front of her. "She was hungry, so she went to the dining room to order trays for us. Something must've distracted her."

He chuckled as he stepped farther in the room. "I can only imagine. Abigail has a tendency to get distracted. It's a trait I find endearing. What about your bodyguard?" He glanced to one of the oversized leather chairs by the fireplace. "Do you mind if I have a seat?"

"Oh. Not at all. I've told Jared he's off-duty when I'm in the hotel. I figure it's safe enough." She gave him a sympathetic smile. "You must be exhausted."

"I am. It’s been one of those kinds of days." He didn't know why he'd said that to her. Generally, he kept those sorts of things, weaknesses, to himself.

She edged closer to him, the concern evident on her face. "Did anything else happen?" She slipped into the chair opposite him.

"A few more things. Accidents. Well, supposed accidents. No matter how poorly trained staff may be, no hotel could survive if these things happened regularly. Someone is behind them."

"But why? Why would someone want to do this?"

He'd been wondering the same thing. "I don't know. Perhaps someone's not happy with the change in management."

She clucked. "I'm not sure who would feel that way. The Claytons were horrible people." She cocked her head to the side as if contemplating something. "You know, I could see the Claytons doing something like this. Well, Mrs. Clayton, anyway. Mr. Clayton never seemed like the sort to even bother. In name, he owned the hotel, but Mrs. Clayton actually ran it. And I know from personal experience, she's vicious."

Rhys rolled the thought over in his mind. Mrs. Clayton hadn't been pleased with the sale of the hotel. In fact, she'd fought him on it. "That could be. She could've asked the staff to sabotage things for me."

Willow shook her head. "I don't think so. I know a lot of the people who work here, and they're good people. Besides, no one liked Mrs. Clayton."

Rhys bracketed his forehead with his hands. He felt as though there was a clue in these facts, somewhere, but he was so exhausted, and in too much pain, to figure it out. "If more accidents happen, I'll look into that. Thank you for the tip."

She blushed, and he lowered his hands so he could get a better view of her. Rosy color blossomed over her skin, and he had an urge to kiss it as it moved. Worn out from the day, his self-control was weak, and his attraction to her burned even stronger. Suddenly, he was grateful he was sitting in a chair across from her, instead of closer. "Did you and Abby find anything today?" he asked, hoping to deter his thoughts.

She perked up in her seat. "We did, but I don't think it's actually from DP. Someone wrote a poem about him, and we're hoping it's a clue to where the treasure is."

He laughed as she stood, and fetched a scrap of paper off the table. He rose from his chair, ready to humor her, but didn't expect much. What were the odds they found a clue in one of the hundreds of books here?

He moved over to the table, standing next to her. "That it?"

She nodded and handed him the paper.

Their fingers touched, and the same jolt he'd felt the first time he brushed against her skin, filled him. Except this time, he was more prepared for it. He lingered, taking the paper slowly, brushing his fingers over the back of her hands.

She sucked in a breath, but held still, neither of them wanting the connection to end. Finally, though, Willow pulled her hand away, her breath unsteady. "Read it."

He opened the folded note, and had to read it twice before his brain cleared enough of the desire filtering through it to comprehend what it said. Then, when he did, he read it again quickly. He lowered the paper slowly. "Why would someone leave this here?" The poem was awful, but strange enough that he wondered if it meant something.

"I know. At first, we thought it was a joke, but why would anyone leave it here?"

"Plus, no one had access to this room." His mind churned with possibilities. "I highly doubt either one of the Claytons wrote it."

Willow nodded. "Exactly."

"Which book was it in?"

"Here." She handed him a book.

He looked over the cover before glancing back to her, raising a brow. "How to Get the Best Yields from Your Garden?"

Willow shrugged, but eyed the book. "It could be a clue. Or it could be nothing."

At this point, he didn't think it was anything other than someone's fancy, but he also couldn't be completely sure. He read the note again, looking for more clues. "Which page was it on?"

She bit her lip, and his eyes drew to the movement. He wanted to sink his teeth right there, in that same spot.

She leaned over him toward the book, and he closed his eyes as a silky strand of blond hair caressed his cheek, the scent of lavender filled his senses. Heaven above, it was almost too much temptation to handle. His grip on the book tightened as she turned the pages, oblivious to the emotions rocking through him.

She hummed as she skimmed through the pages, finally stopping on one and pointed. "Page 57."

He tilted his head to read it. "Potatoes?"

Her eyes widened and met his. "You don't think it could be buried in the vegetable garden, do you?"

He highly doubted it, and shrugged. "It's possible. However, the garden is always replanted every year, and this legend has been around for a long time. I think if it were buried out there, someone would've found it by now."

Her shoulders deflated a fraction. "You're probably right. Although, I still think it's worth a look."

He looked down her body, and he hoped she thought he was only looking at her gown. And even though he was, he couldn't help but appreciate the body beneath. He coughed. "That dress might be a bit too fine to dig in the garden with."

Her lips curved ruefully as she looked at the China-blue, ruffled garment. "You're probably right, and this is one of my favorites."

"It matches your eyes," he said, feeling foolish once the words were out. Her gaze trailed up to his, and that breathtaking, depthless blue arrested him. "It does, though I'm not certain anyone has noticed before. At least, no one has ever mentioned it."

He leaned forward without realizing it until he was closer. Tentatively, he reached out and brushed golden strands from her face, giving him an unobstructed view. "I don't know how they haven't. The color is intriguing."

"They're blue," she said, dryly.

His lips quirked, but he didn't back away at her blunt words. Instead, he touched her chin and notched it up higher to get a better view. "They're not just blue. Maybe that's what people think upon first seeing them, but they're like sapphires. Deep, sparkling, and rich."

She flushed again, and turned her face slightly away. Her modesty was so sexy. Another odd thing for him to feel, because he'd always been annoyed by maidenly virtue. Although, he realized now, he'd been annoyed by false maidenly virtue. This was pure, unblemished sweetness, and he wanted more of it. "Does it make you uncomfortable when I say such things?"

Her eyes moved back to his and held. "A little," she said honestly. "I'm not used to such attentions."

"You haven't had suitors? I find that hard to believe." He looked at her doubtfully.

She smiled then. "As an unattached female in Promise Creek, I've had my fair share, but I'm usually too forward, too bossy for most men's taste."

He heard the unspoken question in her words. Am I too bossy for you? The fact was, he liked it. He appreciated a woman like Willow, who could take care of herself and seemingly everyone around her, as well. She wasn't a dependent. She would be a partner. "Willow, I want to kiss you."

She sucked in a breath, and those deep-blue eyes flicked to his lips. She didn't move away, didn't protest, so he slowly leaned forward, giving her ample time to stop him, if she didn't want his touch.

Her lashes fluttered closed once, and then twice—a moment before her hand met his chest. His lips were just a breath away from hers, and he yearned to close the distance, but she held him still. "We shouldn't do this," she finally said, her sweet breath feathering over his skin.

He exhaled deeply and leaned back a fraction, hoping to gain some sort of control over himself. "I shouldn't kiss you? Why?" She bit her lip, and he let out a soft, uncontrollable groan.

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, but when he didn't answer, she expounded. "I'm friends with your sister. I'm helping her stay strong, so you don't sweet-talk her into getting your way. Plus," she said, continuing even though he wanted to argue that point. "You're leaving. You might have purchased the hotel, but you have no intentions of staying here. However, I do. I don't plan on leaving Promise Creek, so kissing would be a bad idea, because it can't lead to anything. We can't lead to anything."

Logically, he knew she was right. There was no future for them, and kissing would only end up frustrating them, or worse, hurting them both. It was better to remain apart, to not grow any closer. It sounded good in his mind, but his body didn't agree. He craved her, wanted just a little bit more. But he was honest enough to admit he'd want a little more after that, then a little more, until things were so tangled there was no way out. "You're right."

Her shoulders fell as if she were disappointed, even though it had been what she was saying all along.

"You're right," he continued as he took both her hands and raised them to his lips, brushing a soft kiss over her knuckles. The scent and feel of her skin wreaked havoc on him, charging his body with more desires, but he kept his grip on her light. "But I don't want you to be."

She sighed. "I don't, either," she said honestly.

He closed his eyes tight at her admission. Knowing she wanted a kiss just as much as he did was torture.

"Rhys?"

He shook his head before opening his eyes. "It's all right. Just hearing you want it too makes it difficult to control the urge."

She smiled and bit her lip. "I understand. I don't mean to make this harder on you."

His laugh was hoarse. "You didn't. I just find you're more temptation than I'm used to."

"Maybe it would be best if we weren't alone."

"Probably wise," he agreed, although he didn't particularly want that. And when he wanted something, he went after it. It was a novel experience to hold himself back willingly.

"Besides—" she slipped her hands from him and stepped away "—I'll usually be with Abby, so it'll make it easier."

"Yeah." He was starting to feel like an idiot, agreeing to anything she said, but he knew she needed to fill the space with words.

"Okay. Good. Good!"

"Great."

Awkward silence filled the room. She frowned. "This has become uncomfortable now, hasn't it?"

He laughed then. This woman pulled so many emotions from him, he didn't know how he was going to feel from one moment to the next. "How about we don't make this uncomfortable?" The smile he gave her was genuine, and from the way she responded, he could tell she realized that. "Why don't you tell my sister I stopped by? I probably won't get an opportunity to see her again before you leave."

"I will. But I'm sure we'll be back tomorrow. That paper—" she nodded toward the parchment on the table "—has only made us more excited. We'll continue our search soon."

He nodded and walked to the door, before turning and giving her a formal bow. "Until tomorrow, then."

She lowered her head. "Tomorrow."

He left, wondering why it sounded like a promise.

Chapter 7

By their third day of searching, Willow and Abby were exhausted.

Abby huffed and collapsed into a wingback chair in the hotel library. "There has to be another clue somewhere!"

Willow felt the same, but she had no idea where else one might be. Over the last few days, they'd searched every nook and cranny in the hotel; they'd dug up the potato section in the garden and the carrots next to them for good measure. But there still weren't any clues as to where DP's hoard was. "Maybe someone found it already," Willow said. "Maybe it was that person who wrote the poem."

Abby groaned. "I can't accept that."

Willow snorted. "Accept it or not, it might be the truth. It's been years."

"I know. But I feel it in here." She placed a fist to her chest. "I feel like it's just sitting here, somewhere in the hotel, waiting for us to find it."

It was a wonderful thought. Willow was practical, and pushed for what she wanted, but she knew there were some things she couldn't force. She didn't like it, but she could accept it. "We don't have to give up. We can continue looking. Besides, your family owns the hotel now."

"My brother owns the hotel."

Willow rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. Your brother will let you go anywhere you like, whenever you like."

"He probably would. But you're forgetting—" she sat up in her chair "—he won't be here much longer. He doesn't stay and personally run each and every hotel. It would be impossible. He'll appoint a manager, and there's no guarantee they'll let us traipse around the place like my brother has. If we're going to find it, we have to do it soon."

Willow knew she was right, but she didn't want to dash Abby's hopes. So instead of agreeing, she hoisted herself from the chair, held out her hands for Abby to grip, and pulled her up. "Well, we're not going to find it right now. Not when we're exhausted and frazzled. Why don't we get a bite to eat in the restaurant, and refresh ourselves? Maybe with a little time away, we'll think of new places to look."

Abby blew out a breath. "I guess you're right. We need a break. But we're coming back and looking after our meal."

"Of course." She rolled her eyes and laughed.

They linked arms as they left the library, and made their way through the hotel. Willow was amazed at how much Rhys had accomplished already in such a short amount of time. The holes or saggy pieces of wood in the floors had all been replaced, and the planks were now being sanded and prepped for a new coat of finish. They would shine like mirrors when they were done.

The cleaning crews had been working overtime, but Willow hadn't heard anyone complain. In truth, they seemed chipper about it. Abby had explained that Rhys was probably paying them bonuses for the extra work, in order to have it completed quickly. Willow could understand why the workers were so pleased with the arrangement.

When she was in service, she would have jumped at the opportunity to earn extra. The people here were no different. Even now that she was wealthy, Willow was still interested in such a prospect.

She sighed. She might have means now, but she was still the same person she'd been in Boston. Well, perhaps not completely. She'd changed over the last year and a half, just as the other women had. But inside, she felt the same wants and needs as before. She wasn't so worried with her physical needs now, and would never worry again, but there was still so much she wanted, emotionally. Answering Ivan's mail-order-bride ad wasn't only out of desperation. When her employer had made threats against her if she refused intimate relations with him, she'd left. But he'd also withheld a reference, and she hadn't been able to find work after. She had been desperate, since no one would hire her, but she'd also realized something else she needed. Willow wanted love, and Ivan had made it seem like he was practically in love with her already. She'd had hope for a future, and she'd jumped.

But after a year and a half, hope was starting to fade. She sighed softly, praying Abby hadn't heard. She didn't want Abby's pity. Instead, she shored herself up, ready for an excellent meal. And by the smells coming from the dining room, that was exactly what they were going to get. "Smells divine."

"I can tell Rhys has already changed the menu. I wonder how much of a fight the chef put up." She snorted.

"Why is that funny?"

"Let me tell you." Abby rolled her eyes. "At our hotel in Philadelphia, we have a French chef. Rhys couldn't tell him anything, or he'd blow up into hysterical fits."

Willow wasn't too surprised. She had been in service after all, and chefs were notoriously stubborn and egotistical. "Who ended up winning the argument?"

Abby raised a brow. "Who do you think?"

Willow chuckled. "You did say Rhys was stubborn."

"More stubborn than the French chef, apparently." Abby extricated her arm from Willow's and rubbed her hands together. "I hope Rhys included some of my favorite dishes."

"Does he normally request the same menu items?"

"Not identical menus, but there are a few favorites that always carry over. Our hotels also offer local favorites and such." She smacked her lips in a rather unladylike way that had Willow chuckling.

The maître d', a recently filled position, stepped over to them at once. "Miss Winthrop, Miss Packer, it's a pleasure. Would you like a table?"

Willow had never received such treatment, so she assumed it was due to Abby's association with Rhys. There were definite perks to having a powerful brother. "We would, Mr. Brink. Thank you."

His face lit up. "Excellent. Follow me."

Willow glanced around, slightly embarrassed they were being seated while others waited. But instead of saying anything, she followed Mr. Brink and Abby to a corner table.

Abby smiled brightly. "Thank you."

"Of course. Mr. Winthrop specifically told me to leave this table empty in case either yourself or Miss Packer were hungry. Also, everything you order will be charged to the hotel."

Willow spluttered, but Abby smiled, and thanked the man as if it were no big deal. He handed them both menus, and told them a server would assist them whenever they were ready.

Willow looked unseeing at the menu, the dishes blurring together as her mind whirled from what Mr. Brink had said. Rhys had saved this table for Abby and her. Meaning, if she were hungry and ate without Abby, she would have gotten the same treatment. Quick seating at the best table, and a fully-paid-for meal no matter what she ordered. He'd taken care of her needs in this regard, and she wasn't sure how to react.

She was stunned, of course. She should probably tell him she was fully capable of taking care of herself, but Rhys already knew that. He also knew she was an heiress and could easily afford any meal she wanted. This wasn't about money. Not for either of them. It wasn't a hardship for him to give her a complimentary meal. He'd done so to care for her. Same as he had Abby.

The knowledge brought a sweet ache that wove through her body, lingering in her chest. Rhys cared. She cleared her throat and lowered the menu slightly. "So, what's good?"

Abby looked up with delight sparkling in her eyes. "The beef soup and venison pie are to die for. Also, I'm planning on having a dessert."

A surprised laugh escaped Willow. "I don't know where you'll put it all. Especially with a figure like yours." She looked at the table as though she could see through it to Abby's tiny waist.

"You might not be able to tell, but I enjoy food very much." She patted her stomach.

Willow shook her head. She had noticed Abby enjoyed meals, but she never overate. She highly doubted the woman would be able to eat all she ordered. Willow placed the menu on the table. "I'll trust your judgment, and will have whatever you're ordering."

"You won't be disappointed!" Abby signaled a man who waited along the wall. At her gesture, he immediately came over. She smiled and ordered them both the beef soup and venison pie.

"I'm not certain I'll be able to eat it all," Willow said.

Abby waved a hand through the air. "That doesn't matter."

But Willow had never intentionally wasted food before and felt a little guilty at the prospect. However, when the soup arrived, she was pleased to see it served in a cup instead of a bowl. That wouldn't fill her up too much. "Smells delicious."

"Just wait until you taste it." She looked at the table and frowned. "My soup spoon is missing. Do you have yours?"

Fortunately, Willow had been trained as to which was which while in service. "I don't have one, either."

"That's strange. I'll have to mention it to Rhys, so he can properly train the staff."

Willow doubted the locals would worry over such a thing, but then again, maybe they would. This was a town full of miners, but many were now millionaires. Perhaps they wanted to acquire a few polished edges to go with their new station.

Abby alerted their waiter to the problem, and he immediately left to get their utensils. Willow inhaled the tendrils of steam coming from the cup. "At least it's giving us time for it to cool off."

Abby picked up her water glass and held it up in mock salute. "There's the bright side while we die of starvation." Willow rolled her eyes and Abby snickered. "I'm only partially kidding."

"Unfortunately, I realize that." They both laughed. "So, about the treasure, I was thinking if we look in—"

A spluttering noise sounded a few tables over from them, as a man jumped from his seat and clutched at his chest. His other arm flailed and landed hard on the table, forcing the items on top to crash to the ground.

Willow jumped from her chair and ran to him. "Sir, are you all right? Sir?" He collapsed to the ground and Willow knelt next to him. "Someone get the doctor!" She screamed, and held his head on her lap as he fell unconscious. She watched his chest move up and down in rapid breaths.

Another commotion sounded from across the room, and Willow realized another man was vomiting. Soon, someone else cried out. People were screaming and running around, and she heard the unmistakable sound of others vomiting.

A cold sweat broke over her and knowledge filled her. They'd been poisoned. All these people had been poisoned. Willow's head swiveled around as she tried to find Abby, but didn't see her anywhere.

When Rhys ran into the room, with Abby trailing behind him, she realized why Abby had left.

Quickly assessing the people in the room, he knelt beside Willow and started undoing the man's neckcloth. "What happened here?"

"I don't know," she said as he pressed his fingers to the man's neck. "I don't know what happened. Everything was fine, we'd just gotten our soup when this man yelled and clutched his chest. Then he collapsed. Others—" she looked around the room "—started vomiting almost immediately after."

Rhys looked grim before finally removing his hand and leaning forward, smelling around the man's mouth. "Bitter almonds," he said, spitting out the words as if they were the most offensive food items ever.

"What does it mean?"

He glanced down at the spilled food items. Crusty, hot rolls, soup, and a hunk of prime beef. "Poison."

She swallowed hard, still clutching the man. It was as she'd thought. "Could it be an accident?"

"No. This is cyanide."

She gasped. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. There's no mistaking it. We just need to figure out which food item they all had in common." He stood and strode to the other ill people, checking on them and then assessing their meal choices.

He came back quickly, and she set the man off to the side. Rhys grabbed her hand and yanked her up, his hands flying up and down over her arms as if checking for injury. He looked frantic. "Are you sick?"

"What? No. I didn't eat anything."

He gripped her arms. "Are you sure? Not even a drop?"

"No. We'd received our soup, but there weren't any proper spoons, and then this man collapsed before the waiter came back."

He closed his eyes, and pulled her in against him, holding her tight for a minute before releasing her. "Abby didn't eat, either?"

"No. What's going on, Rhys?"

"They all ordered different entrees…but started with beef soup."

Willow's stomach dropped. "Soup…"

He nodded seriously. "I saw two cups at your table and thought the worst. If those spoons hadn't been missing…"

He didn't finish, and he didn't need to.

Willow raised a hand to her throat as she looked around at the sick people. The doctor raced in then, and Rhys flagged him down to attend to the unconscious man first. He was the worst off, by far. The others had vomited and looked exhausted, but they were still able to move around on their own.

"Go be with Abby," he said softly in her ear.

It wasn't a command. She could hear the tenderness in his voice. He was urging her, not wanting her around, seeing this horror, if he could help it.

She thought about protesting, but then caught sight of a pale-faced Abby, who hovered in the doorway. She finally nodded to Rhys, and he looked relieved before she left.

She walked slowly over to Abby.

"It was in the soup, wasn't it?" Abby asked.

Willow wasn't sure it was best to confirm such a thing, but Willow would have wanted to hear the truth if she were in Abby's position. So instead of lying or downplaying what had happened, she said, "Yes. The beef soup."

Abby's tormented eyes met Willow's. "That could have been us. If we'd had spoons, or decided to use something else, we would be sick."

"It's best not to dwell on that," Willow said softly. "We didn't eat it. We're perfectly fine."

"But those people did. And if one of them dies…"

"No one is dying. The doctor is here, and he's going to make sure everyone is taken care of. Rhys already knows what kind of poison it is, and the fact that no one is dead already shows us it was a low dose. People will be sick, but after some rest, they'll recover."

Abby still didn't look convinced. She shivered, but her eyes never left the scene.

Willow placed her hands on Abby's shoulders and moved in front of her view. "Come on. Rhys and the doctor have everything in hand. Why don't we go lie down for a bit?" She thought of suggesting they continue their search, but Willow had no desire to do such a thing, and she didn't think Abby was physically capable of it at the moment, anyway.

Still, when Abby nodded her agreement, Willow was surprised. Abby was gently bred, but she also had a backbone of steel. She'd been hardy ever since Willow had met her, but this was affecting her. "Why don't I walk you to an empty room? You can lie down and have a rest."

"Will you rest, too?"

Willow's knee-jerk answer was no. But the truth was, she was exhausted. They'd spent so much energy searching, and now with the poisoning, the trauma had sucked the last of her reserves. She nodded. "Yes, I'll lie down, too."

With a final nod, Willow wove her arm through Abby's and led her out. She glanced over her shoulder just to make sure everything was being taken care of, and met Rhys' eyes.

Her heart fluttered at the intent stare, but he finally nodded at her, as if thanking her for taking care of Abby. She nodded back and forced her gaze away.

No matter how Rhys made her feel, now wasn't the time to dwell on it. It might not ever be the right time.

Chapter 8

When Rhys' assistant, Peter, informed him Willow was in the library the next morning, continuing her search alone, he couldn't stop himself from going to her. Ridiculously, he felt like a youth opening the library door, both excited and nervous to see her. She'd occupied most of his thoughts. Especially after the scare yesterday.

He opened the door, and she glanced up from the floor while replacing a book.

He leaned in the doorway, waiting for an invitation inside, even though it was his hotel. "Hello."

She offered him a warm smile. "Hi. Come in."

He left the door open a crack before moving toward her. "I heard you were back. Where's Abby?"

"I advised her to rest for today. She was so upset with what happened yesterday, she didn't sleep much. She only ended up agreeing to it if I promised to continue our search. Thank you again for letting us stay the night."

"Of course. In truth, I wanted you both close. After what happened, I needed to be sure you were safe." When she stilled, as if uncertain how to respond, he asked, "Are you planning to search in here the rest of the day?"

"Yes." She relaxed at the change of topic and her face took on a guilty flush. "And your office, if that's all right."

His office was normally a place he didn't allow people to invade—even housekeeping—but for some reason, he couldn't deny her. "Absolutely. Let me know when you want to get in."

She dusted off her hands. "How about now, if you have time?"

He was surprised, but agreed. "Of course." He held out his hands to help her up, and she glanced at them, then his face, and then back at his hands as if debating, before placing her hands in his.

Her palms were callused in places, attesting to a life of work, but he only found her warm skin appealing. He wrapped his fingers around them and pulled gently, lifting her off the floor.

She rose quickly, then stumbled slightly before righting herself. Color crested her cheeks. "Thank you."

He nodded, not wanting her to be uncomfortable.

She finally sighed and looked him in the eye. "I probably shouldn't admit this, but you make me uneasy."

He leaned back. "I do? It was never my intention." He was somewhat appalled to hear that.

She waved him away. "I don't mean like that. It's just…well…" she floundered a moment. "I'm attracted to you. I'm sure that's no surprise. It's hard fighting it, and whenever I'm around you, especially alone, it's difficult."

He knew he should say something glib, joke about it to ease the tension surrounding them, but he couldn't. "Willow…you're testing me," he grated. The desire swamping over him made it difficult to think rationally.

Her eyes widened slightly. "I'm not trying to. I'm trying to be honest, trying to be upfront so I can manage it better. Everything I said the other night is still true. This can't go anywhere, and it's best not to get tangled up."

She was right. He knew it. But that didn't lessen how he felt. "I know, but I feel like if I don't kiss you right now, I'll explode. This feeling you have, the same one I feel, doesn't seem to be going away."

She pressed her lips together. "It's only growing," she admitted softly. "I thought if I ignored it, it would leave."

"I don't think that's going to happen. After last night, especially. The thought of you hurt…" his eyes went dark.

"What should we do? Should I stay away from the hotel?"

It was the last thing he wanted. He shook his head. "Abby will come here, and she'll wonder why you suddenly don't want to be here. Besides, I don't think it will make a difference." And for him, it wouldn't. It hadn't mattered if he was with Willow or not. She always seemed to be on his mind.

He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, caressing the shell of it softly. "Let me kiss you. I don't want to go another moment without knowing what it would be like."

She closed her eyes and moaned softly at his words. He could tell she wanted the kiss as much as he did, but he wouldn't take away her choice. He could overwhelm her, claiming everything he wanted, but that was selfish. He cared too much for her to do that.

Instead, he waited. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Until she opened her desire-glazed eyes. "Rhys…"

"You have to say the words," he said.

She bit her lip, debating her desire. He leaned forward slightly, as if willing her to say yes, willing her to tell him she wanted him. His grip on her remained loose, though, refusing to sway her.

She finally returned his gaze again and nodded. "Kiss me, Rhys. I want to know, too."

Relief gushed through him, and he swept her fully in his arms, his breaths coming out in pants as he grappled for control. He wanted to hold her gently, slowly take her lips to show her he valued her, that he cherished her, but he couldn't. Every ounce of willpower he had was decimated by the thick, hot need coursing through him.

She gasped in surprise as the fronts of their bodies met. He shook at the feel of her, all curves and softness to his hardened frame. He wanted to get closer to her, have nothing between them so he could explore her more fully, feel her velvety skin against his.

He blew out a long breath, hoping it would calm him, give him some semblance of control.

"Rhys?" Willow's voice held a trembling note at the end, as if she were uncertain what was happening.

A soft laugh escaped him at how ridiculous he was being. He was a fully-grown man, but all control had fled at having Willow in his arms.

He touched his forehead to hers. "It's okay. I just needed an extra minute. Being with you isn't like anything I've experienced before."

Tension left her frame, and she grinned, lazily wrapping her arms around his neck. "And just think, we haven't even kissed yet," she said, a moment before brushing her lips against his.

Lightning shot through him. Scorching, blinding, life-changing. As if a switch had been flipped, he took control, bringing his hands up to cup her jaw. He angled her head and ran his thumbs along soft skin, coaxing her to open to him. And she did.

He took the kiss deeper. Relishing her taste, her scent, her sounds, discovering secret after secret.

Kissing Willow was a revelation, one he never wanted to forget.

He started pulling away, refusing to push past what she was willing to give, when her arms held him tight, tugging him back to her.

All good intensions fled. Delving back in, he walked her backwards, pushing her into the bookcase behind them. Books bounced off the shelf, but neither of them paid any attention. They were too focused on each other, on what they were making the other feel, to care about the mess they were making.

If he thought Willow would acquiesce to anything, he'd been wrong. She was a partner in this. Giving as much as she was taking. She might not have much experience, but after the first awkward meeting of lips, he would've never known.

When he was certain he was about to lose all control, he ripped his mouth from hers, trailing kisses down her throat, nipping when he found a particular spot she liked.

The smell of her, lavender and sunshine, was more concentrated where her neck met her shoulder, and he laved at the soft skin until he was sure he could taste it.

"Rhys." She moaned, her head tilting back to give him more access, and he took advantage of it, kissing every inch he could around the opening of her dress.

When his hands itched to rove over every part of her, he clenched them at his sides and took a large step in retreat, groaning at the sight of her up against the bookshelf, her skin flushed and abraded where he'd given it attention.

Her lips were bee-stung and rosy, and when her eyes fluttered open, he could see the same emotions that were echoing inside him. All he wanted to do was pull her back in his arms.

"That was…" She trailed off, looking as though her brain wasn't functioning as it should.

"Incredible," he supplied. "Unlike anything I've ever experienced."

For a moment, he wondered if she would believe him. It seemed like something a man would say after sharing such an intimacy, but he truly meant it. He'd never felt that way with anyone before, and he was wise enough to realize he never would again.

She gave him a slow, soft smile, until finally clearing her throat and reaching for her hair. He bit back a smile. "You might need to touch it up a bit."

Her hand patted the lopsided chignon. "Are you sure?" she teased. "I might start a new fashion trend."

If she did, it was one Rhys could support. A rosy, well-kissed Willow was the most attractive thing he'd seen in his life. "You never know. It could catch on."

She snorted and pushed away from the bookshelf, looking down at the books which had rained down on them. "We've made a mess."

He followed her gaze, but couldn't summon any remorse. It had been worth every second. "I can have someone clean it up," he offered.

"And have them realize what we did? No thank you."

He smothered his grin. "I can tell them I did it in a fit of rage."

"Rage, huh?" she said dryly. "Is that what passion is called now?"

"Okay, a fit of madness."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "It's all right. I can look through all of them as I'm cleaning up."

He knew he should leave so she could continue her search, but he didn't want to. Instead of doing what he wanted, he said, "Good luck hunting today. I'll have a tray brought to you, if you'd like. The chef made a chocolate pastry I think you'll love."

She licked her lips, and his gut clenched. "That would be appreciated. Thank you."

He said goodbye and went to the door, knowing if he stayed a moment longer, he'd take her back into his arms.

Unfortunately, it seemed he was becoming addicted to Willow. And he couldn't stop himself, either.

Chapter 9

After looking through every inch of the library yesterday, Willow had to finally accept defeat. They had the one clue, but they hadn't been able to make sense of it one way or another. They were at a dead end.

Rhys had given them leave to search his office, but Willow very much doubted the treasure would be in there. As far as she could tell, the office had been the hotel owner's personal space, barred from other people. Especially guests. But it never hurt to look.

"I'm feeling good about this," Abby said, as they made their way to Rhys' private domain.

They'd stayed an additional night at the hotel, and she was grateful Jared had been willing to return to the house and have Sylvia pack them a bag. It had made their stay more comfortable, but Willow was surprised she enjoyed the hotel more than her own home. It wasn't the luxurious atmosphere Rhys was imbuing the place with, although that was awfully pleasant. No, she liked the fact that there were so many people around.

It was something she missed, now that the other brides were married and had moved out. Even before Juliette had left, it had been too quiet. Willow liked noise and action. She liked knowing something was always going on, thrived on the hustle and bustle at the hotel.

But this wasn't her home, and she needed to keep herself from getting used to it. If Abby wanted to stay, though, Willow would support her, even if it gave her brother an edge in convincing her to return home.

"I do, too," Willow finally said, in reply to Abby. "I hope we find something that points us in the right direction. We're running out of time."

Abby looked up at her. "We don't have to return back to the house, you know. Rhys said we could stay as long as we wanted."

"While I appreciate your brother's hospitality, I can't stay. I have a perfectly good home to live in. Besides, there isn't enough space here for my designs, materials, and business. I've been able to put off everything the last few days, but I have another round of fittings coming up, and I'll need more space for my supplies."

Abby nodded. "I understand. I'll let Rhys know we'll be heading back to the house tonight."

"Thank you." Willow was grateful, truly. But she didn't feel happy about it, for some reason. While it made sense to go, she didn't want to leave.

"Of course. It is all completely understandable. And you're right. It's time to get back to real life."

Willow didn't want to point out that this could be Abby's real life again. She'd grown up in this atmosphere, grown up in privilege. While Willow knew money wasn't everything, it sure helped with a lot of things. "By the way, has Rhys talked to you about your inheritance?"

"Yes!" She stopped, turned, and grabbed Willow's arm. "Yes. I forgot to tell you." She practically lit with excitement, and Willow already guessed what Rhys had said. "He told me while he didn't approve of me staying, and he thinks I should go home with him today—" she rolled her eyes "—he said he wouldn't deny me what was rightfully mine just because I'm doing something he doesn't approve of. He clearly thinks my decision to stay is wrong, but it doesn't matter. The point is, I'm not cut off!"

Willow sighed in a large gust of relief. "That's fantastic news. I'm so glad your brother is being reasonable about this, now." At first, Willow hadn't been sure Rhys would ever see eye-to-eye with either of them on this point, but Willow was grateful he was turning a corner on the subject.

Abby chuckled. "I don't know if reasonable is the right word. He is still convinced this isn't best for me, and is planning to stay until I change my mind."

"How very…"

"Insufferable?" Abby nodded, smiling. "Yes. That would be him. It becomes endearing though."

Willow wasn't sure she agreed. But regardless of how she personally felt, how Abby felt was all that mattered. "I'm just glad he's not my brother," she teased.

Abby snorted and released Willow's arm. "Come on. Let's hurry and ransack the office so we can move on to somewhere else."

"Sounds like a plan." Although, Willow had no idea where they'd look next. This was the last restricted place. If they didn't find it here, it was unlikely they'd find it somewhere else.

Arriving at the office, Abby knocked briskly.

"Come in."

Just hearing Rhys' voice sent shivers over Willow's body. She'd been hoping to lock away the feelings he'd released in her during their kiss yesterday, but it looked as though she'd failed miserably.

Abby opened the door and walked in, and Willow, her heart slightly racing, stepped in behind her. Instead of keeping her eyes on the floor like some modest maiden, she boldly looked up into his eyes, ignoring what her insides were doing.

When his eyes connected with hers, she took in a sharp breath. His eyes quickly trailed over her, and she felt the movement like a caress.

Abby stepped forward and kissed Rhys on the cheek. "Thank you for letting us invade your privacy."

His lips twitched in amusement. "I wasn't aware I had a choice," he teased. "Besides, if I'm going to be invaded, I couldn't have chosen anyone better."

"Very sweet. We'll let you know when we're done."

Rhys walked over to a chair against the wall and sat. "I think I'll stay."

"Stay?" Willow squeaked, and Rhys gave her a look that made her bones melt.

"Yes. I needed a break anyway. Watching you treasure hunt should help."

Abby turned from looking at the desk, and held up a finger at him. "Fine, but just be aware that even if we find the treasure right now, just being here doesn't mean you'll get a cut."

He held up his hands. "Understood."

At his words, Abby grinned and turned back to her task of ransacking his desk. He turned his attention on Willow. "Go on. You might as well dig in, too."

But instead of moving like she knew she should, she just stood there, staring at him like an idiot.

After a few seconds, Rhys raised a brow, and a grin curled his lips, as if he understood completely why she was still standing there, staring at him.

Snapping out of it, she spun away from him, almost groaning at his faint chuckle. Oh, he knew how she felt, what he did to her. It was so embarrassing. She was a grown woman for heaven's sake, and this wasn't the first time she'd been attracted to a man.

Then why was she behaving this way? She'd been kissed before. Albeit, never like that. Her experiences before had been brief. Almost like a period at the end of a sentence or an afterthought. Quick, passionless, and forgettable. Willow knew she would never forget a second of how it felt to kiss Rhys.

She cleared her throat and moved over to the bookcase, pulling each book down one at a time and flipping through for any more clues, as she'd done in the library.

Abby and Rhys chatted a bit, but Willow tuned out their conversation, focusing mainly on how she felt inside.

Ten minutes later, a knock sounded from the door and Rhys answered it, finally stepping out of the room.

With him gone, her body relaxed, the tense muscles unfurling, and she sighed with relief. She needed to figure out how to handle seeing him. Because this wasn't comfortable, and frankly, it was a little ridiculous. "Have you found anything?" she asked Abby. Although she was certain if she had, Abby would have said something.

"Nothing." Disappointment tinged her voice. "You?"

"No. I haven't gone through all the books though," she offered, but she knew, deep down, they wouldn't find anything.

Abby stepped over to her and reached for a book. "I don't understand. We should have found something else."

Willow shrugged. "I don't know what to say. DP's hoard has been a legend for a long time. Many people have looked for it before this. I'm sure even the Claytons did. We might not ever know what happened to it."

Abby sighed, as though finally accepting the truth. "You're right. I just felt so certain we would find it."

"Maybe someday we will. You never know."

Abby was about to say something else, when Rhys stepped back in the room. He rubbed the back of his neck, and moved as though agitated.

Abby looked at him and frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He gave them his full attention. "Find anything?"

"No." Abby cocked her head. "What is it, Rhys?"

He blew out a breath and raked a hand through his hair. "Just trouble with the hotel."

Willow stepped forward. "Is anyone injured?"

His gaze darted to hers as he shook his head. "No. Sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. There haven't been any more accidents, now that I've hired someone to watch the hotel and have put out a reward for information. But even without things going wrong, word has spread about the poisoning. We've only had a handful of people eat in the restaurant since it happened."

"What can we do?" Abby asked.

"Not much, unfortunately. It doesn't matter how much we convince people it's safe, they're scared. The only thing we can do is try to get them to forget."

"How about an event?" Abby offered. "Do something that will get them in the door and having a good time. Then the poisoning will fall to the back of their minds."

He nodded. "Same as we did in Atlanta."

"Exactly."

"I've thought the same thing, but I don't know these people. What is something they'd want to attend? What can we offer them?"

Both sets of eyes turned to Willow. She cleared her throat. "The townspeople are predominately men. Which makes it tricky."

Rhys agreed. "True. And it doesn't make sense to sponsor a competition, or anything like that. They wouldn't be in the hotel. We need something that will make them forget."

"The men like opportunities to mingle with the few single ladies in town." It was strange saying those words, when she was one of the few single women left. "Most would come for something like that."

Abby smile. "Like a ball?"

Willow laughed. "That's a fancy name for it, but yes. Although, I'm not sure that will do what we need."

He nodded at her appreciatively. "I agree. They've been to dances before, and there will be plenty more. But what else could we offer?"

Abby frowned. "What's something both men and women would enjoy?"

Willow had no idea. Men liked going to things where they could interact with women…so what was something a woman would enjoy? Their homes, families, friends. Picnics, gatherings, parties all filtered through her mind, but none of those options seemed right. "What is something women like?"

"Fashion?" Abby offered.

As if a lightbulb came on for both of them, they grinned at each other.

Rhys sat up, looking between them. "What is it?"

"Well," Abby drawled. "Women like fashion, and from everything I've seen, they want the most fashionable dresses they can find. So, we can host a party where the purpose is for ladies to view gowns. We can either have the dresses showcased throughout the room, or have women walk out in a display of sorts."

Rhys stood from his chair, and Willow could see his mind turning over the possibilities. "The parade would be better. Not only would it be the highlight of the evening, it would also allow the men to look at the women for a reason."

Willow raised a brow. "Do they need a reason?"

"If they want to stare and look their fill? Yes. This is perfect. Men might not be interested in women's fashion, but they'll be interested in this." He looked at Willow. "Can you make this happen by the weekend?"

Her mind reeled with the possibilities. She mentally catalogued her inventory. "I don't think I have enough gowns to do it. I'd need more time to sew."

"What if we use my dresses? We can have a few women wear them. Most people haven't seen them before."

Willow bit her lip. "Are you sure you wouldn't mind?" The dresses were gorgeous, and she'd been planning on copying a few of the designs. Women would go crazy once they saw them, and Willow knew she would be overrun with orders.

"Of course! It's the least I could do."

Rhys smiled at his sister gratefully, before turning his attention back to Willow. "What do you think?"

"I think…" She debated mentioning it, but felt she needed to be honest. "I think it's a wonderful idea. I think people will love it, and you'll have a full house. But…"

"But?" Both Rhys and Abby asked.

Willow twisted her hands in front of her. "But I feel I should mention that this will be very beneficial to me and my business. Yes, it'll get people in the hotel and will help erase the poisoning from their minds, but it's going to drive up my sales significantly. I feel as if I should be paying you to do this."

Rhys grinned then. "That's when you know it's a really good idea. It's a benefit to everyone. Knowing what it'll do for your business only makes me want to do it more."

She flushed with pleasure at his words. She could tell he truly meant them. Yes, he was doing it to help the hotel, but Willow was sure if she'd come to him with this idea before the poisoning, he would have done it regardless. "Thank you."

Abby rubbed her hands together, as if excited to plan the event. "Now, where should we start?"

"We'll need to find ladies to model. As many as you can find."

Fortunately, Willow knew just who to ask. She grinned. "Let me take care of that."

Chapter 10

When a knock sounded on Rhys' door, he glanced at the clock. Five minutes late. "Come in."

Peter, his assistant, opened the door. "Mr. and Mrs. Clayton, sir."

Rhys nodded and stood. "Thank you." As the former owners of the hotel stepped in, Rhys didn't smile, but he made an effort not to outright scowl. "I'll call if I need you, Peter. Thank you."

His assistant swiftly left the room, closing the door behind him, a fact Rhys appreciated. Peter was the type of man Rhys generally liked working with. He was efficient, loyal, and to the point. Unlike the two people who stood before him.

Mr. Clayton seated himself in one of the chairs, slouching as if he still owned the place, and Mrs. Clayton’s gaze darted over every corner of the room, as if scrutinizing and evaluating the changes.

Both behaviors were irritating and rude, but Rhys had dealt with people much worse. Besides, they weren't here on a social call. "Thank you both for coming."

Mrs. Clayton shrugged, her ample bosom jiggling with the movement. "Our home isn't far from here, and we were rather surprised you wanted to see us. Is the hotel not to your liking?" she asked, a little too sweetly.

Rhys' eyes narrowed. "I like the hotel just fine. Like anything that's mine."

She harrumphed, clearly annoyed her needle hadn't found it's mark. But the problem was, it had. It was obvious she'd heard of the trouble they'd been having, but how much did she know? He looked to Mr. Clayton. He almost appeared to be sleeping. The man didn't have one ounce of backbone. "I take it you've both heard of what's happened here?" He purposefully left out what, hoping to see how much they knew.

Mr. Clayton nodded. "Poison isn't something you can brush under the rug." So he was awake, after all.

"No. It isn't. And I wouldn't try to. We're using everything at our disposal to find the person who did it."

Mrs. Clayton smiled. "Do you really think one person is doing it all?"

Rhys stilled. "All what?"

"All the problems you have here." She waved around as if gesturing to the whole hotel. "I highly doubt it's one person."

It was possible she'd heard about the accidents. Someone could still be loyal to her, but the question was, were they loyal enough to do those things if Mrs. Clayton asked? Was this woman capable of hurting others, of sabotage? Of poison? He couldn't tell. "There's no way to tell at this point. Could be, but maybe not. I guess the question I have for both of you is, do you know who's behind this?"

Mrs. Clayton spluttered and attacked. "You can't possibly mean to blame us for these occurrences! We weren't even here."

"Quite right," Mr. Clayton added, looking perturbed.

Mrs. Clayton's outrage seemed genuine, but Rhys had dealt with plenty of liars in his time. Some great, some not so. But he still couldn't make up his mind about the couple in front of him.

Mrs. Clayton was the obvious choice for the saboteur. She was angry about him purchasing the hotel, and she might hope to reclaim it, if he walked away. Rhys didn’t suspect Mr. Clayton of wrongdoing, though. The man practically had one foot in the grave. "I didn't say it was you. I'm asking if you have any idea who it is. A disgruntled employee? An unhappy customer?" he prompted, hoping to bring them back into a less defensive stance. If they felt they were being attacked, they would never open up.

The woman's shoulders relaxed slightly, but she sneered. "The only unhappy customer I can think of was your sister, because she couldn't pay the bill. Other than that, I can't imagine who would have an issue with the hotel. Everyone who's stayed here in the past has had a pleasant visit."

Rhys didn't take the bait. He didn't care if Mrs. Clayton was trying to rile him up. The fact was, she had nothing. The hotel was his, and she was bitter. She could say whatever she wanted. Instead, he turned to Mr. Clayton. "And you? Is there no one?"

Mr. Clayton rubbed his jaw, as if giving the question considerable thought. "It could be anyone here, really. Shoddy bunch of workers if I've ever seen 'em. Be mindful to fire them if they step even a toe out of line. If not—" he swiped a hand through the air "—they'll take all you have."

"I'll keep that in mind," Rhys said dryly. No wonder Mr. Clayton had had problems with the staff.

"You know, perhaps it was your sister," Mrs. Clayton interrupted. "I know you want her to leave with you, and she doesn't want to. Perhaps she's trying to ruin your business so you'll leave. She's had ample opportunity to wander through the hotel. No one would suspect her."

It took all of Rhys' willpower, but he counted to ten silently before addressing her. "If I hear one more derogatory remark against my sister, I'll sue you for slander." His tone was low and deadly.

The smirk on her face faded as he stared at her, refusing to blink. In truth, Mrs. Clayton disgusted him. She thrived on the pain of others, always looking to place herself on top. Rhys had seen numerous others like that in his line of work, and had ruthlessly avoided them. He stood from his chair. "Let me be frank. I called you here to see if you know who is causing the problems in the hotel. I appreciate you coming in and sharing what information you have. If there's anything else you can think of, please send word. I'll be watching out for who's doing this, and I guarantee he'll be caught." The words were ominous, and he cast a long look at Mrs. Clayton. She gulped and looked away, but Rhys couldn't tell if she'd done so because of his subtle threat or because she was worried about being caught.

In either case, he wouldn't figure it out now. He gave a final nod, and they both read his dismissal correctly. They scurried out of the office, Mrs. Clayton huffing one last time as she went through the door.

When he was finally alone, he rubbed his eyes. He needed to figure who was causing these problems before things got worse. They'd only escalate from here. He felt it deep in his bones.

* * *

A handful of single women from town and Ivan's brides had immediately agreed to model Willow and Abby's dresses. Several of them were pregnant, but Willow assured them she wanted clothes for expectant women modeled, as well. Even though many women felt hideous in later stages of pregnancy, Willow knew they'd feel more beautiful if they had fashionable gowns to wear.

Willow stood with Abby and Rhys as they welcomed guests into the hotel ballroom. The women were busy dressing in a room used specifically for that purpose, so they'd have their privacy, and would make a grand entrance once the guests had arrived. So many people had shown up, it made her head spin.

The event was already a success in her eyes. It had done exactly what Rhys had hoped, it had brought people into the hotel. Hopefully by the end of the night, after eating appetizers which looked incredible and tasted heavenly, they'd be lured back to the hotel's restaurant.

The clock behind them chimed, alerting Willow to the time. She leaned over and whispered, "I'm going to go check on the women."

She said it to Abby, but Rhys had overheard as well, and nodded at her with a grateful smile.

She excused herself, and made her way through the room, exchanging short greetings with people as they called out to her. She'd been so caught up in helping the hotel, she kept forgetting that this night was also about her and her business.

Finally exiting the room, she walked down the hall, past the room where the single women were dressing to another, larger room where Ivan's brides were getting ready. She smiled at Jared, who was in charge of guarding the doors, before she slipped inside.

The room was in chaos, but it was happy, as her friends laughed, chatted, and sipped champagne in various states of dress. Clara and Rosalie were helping Aria into a gown designed for later stages of pregnancy, while Juliette expertly curled and pinned Olivia's hair. Belle, already wearing a gorgeous blue ballgown with a gauzy overlay that matched her eyes, chatted with Sadie and Violet, both still in their undergarments, as they contemplated the jewelry laid out.

Willow's heart filled as she looked at the women, all sisters of her heart. "Looking good, ladies."

They all squealed when they saw her and rushed over to hug her, everyone talking over each other.

"This is amazing!"

"Thank you for having us do this!"

"We should do something like this every year!"

Willow giggled, not knowing who said what, but happy they were all here and excited. "I hope you still feel the same way by the end of the evening."

Rosalie playfully slapped Willow's arm. "Of course we will! You're dressing us up like princesses."

In truth, a lot of Abby's dresses did look like gowns a princess would wear. Everyone except Violet and Sadie were clothed, and she could see the two dresses that had been picked for them off to the side—except there weren't two dresses left, there were three, she realized. Was someone missing?

Willow skimmed the room, looking for who might be missing. But when she realized all of the women were there, her eyes trailed back to the gold dress. "Who's that for?"

The women all looked at each other and smiled.

Juliette finally stepped forward. "You."

"Me? But I already have a dress," she said, laughing, but her eyes went back to the gown. It was one of Abby's, and the shimmering gold silk looked like heaven.

"Of course, you do." The women all laughed. "And while it's lovely, you deserve something a bit more luxurious tonight." Juliette took Willow's hand in hers. "This evening is about you."

Willow teared up, but she sucked in a quick breath, trying to stave them off. She didn't want to cry in this moment, even though she was happy. "Does Abby know I'll be wearing this? Was one of you supposed to wear it?"

Giggles sounded from the doorway, and Willow looked over her shoulder as Abby stepped fully into the room. "Of course, I know. I picked it out especially for you. In fact, it's a gift. I've never worn it before, and I know it'll look amazing on you."

"But I couldn't! It must be worth a fortune."

Violet snorted at the statement, and Willow realized she could easily afford any dress she wanted. But that wasn't the point. The dress belonged to Abby, and Willow didn't know if Rhys would eventually cut Abby off, if he couldn't convince her to leave with him.

Abby walked toward her. "I want you to have it. I've never met anyone as kind as you, someone willing to take me in when I was a stranger and had nowhere to go. That dress—" her eyes flicked to the frothing material "—is the least I can do to repay you."

Willow shook her head firmly. "There is no need to repay me. I'm happy to help. I was in your position not that long ago. All of us were. If the town hadn't stepped in and helped us, we would've had nowhere to go."

Cradling her son in her arms, Clara nodded. "Willow is right. Things would've turned out a lot differently, if the town hadn’t taken us in. And we want you to know, we support Willow's choice in having you stay. We've all talked it over—" she gestured to the others in the room "—and we've decided Ivan's house is your home as long as you want it. Regardless if Willow gets married, or whatever else happens, it'll always be a safe haven for you, as well."

Tears filled Abby's eyes, and she reached over and took Clara's free hand. "Thank you so much. All of you." She offered a smile to the whole room. "I don't know any of you very well, at least, not yet, but I hope to in the future. I see the sisterhood you have, what you've made here, and I so desperately want the same for myself. I may not be one of Ivan's brides, but I hope in time, I can be like a sister, too."

There wasn't a dry eye in the room, and Willow was no exception. She stepped forward and hugged Abby. "You're already one of us. You came to Promise Creek alone, hoping for a new life. I'd say that makes you an honorary bride for Ivan."

Laughter echoed through the room, and Abby finally sniffed and smiled. "Honorary bride? I like that."

"Good. Because you are. Now—" she rubbed her hands together "—I think it's time to show the women—and men—of Promise Creek some fashion! What do you say, ladies?"

A cheer rose up, and moments later, Willow was overtaken by the other brides as they helped her get ready. She couldn't have been happier.

Chapter 11

Willow had never believed in fairytales. Not the kind where fairy godmothers appeared, dresses and shoes transformed regular women into princesses, and where servants married princes. But when she stepped into the grand ballroom in the dress Abby selected for her, she believed.

As if she were a high-powered magnet, all eyes turned in her direction when she walked in. Men eyed her appreciatively, their eyes widening as if they'd never seen her before and couldn't believe their eyes. She'd had admirers aplenty, but from the look of it, she'd have many more. Funny how a gown could do that.

As she stepped farther into the room, men crowded around her.

"You look incredible, Miss Packer!"

"Absolutely stunning!"

One man she'd been introduced to, but couldn't recall his name, took her hand and kissed the back of it amorously. "May I please call on you tomorrow, Miss Packer?"

Willow's mouth opened and closed, the men's advances coming so quickly she didn't have time to respond to any of them. "Of course, but—" Her attention was snagged by another question, and she took a breath, trying to figure out how to answer and get the men to back away from her for a moment so she could think.

Then, as if her wish was granted, the men quieted and gave her the space needed. She slumped with relief before a hand reached toward her, effectively cutting through the mob surrounding her. "Miss Packer, might I have a moment of your time?" Rhys stepped forward to take her away, but when a man didn't move out of Rhys' way quick enough, his eyes narrowed.

The man swallowed hard, his eyes widening, before taking a hasty step in retreat. As if a silent message had passed between them, the men broke up and moved away. Rhys gave his attention back to Willow and held out his arm. "Shall we?"

She couldn't decide whether to thank him or laugh, so instead, she took his arm and allowed him to lead her out of the ballroom. It only took her a moment to realize he was taking her back to his office.

Once inside, she released his arm and allowed a chuckle to escape. "Those poor men. They didn't stand a chance against you, did they?"

He raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

"When you glared at them, their knees practically knocked together as they ran away."

He snorted. "Any man I can intimidate away from you isn't worth your time. I don't care if the richest man in America told me to leave you, I still wouldn't. Let them maul the other single ladies."

Willow's pulse raced. "You wouldn't?"

"No."

The finality in his voice sent heat swirling through her, and all she could think about was their kiss. She wasn't sure what to say, and finally, he turned away from her and leaned his head against the wall.

"Are you all right?" she tentatively asked.

He let out a short laugh. "No, Willow. I'm not all right."

"What is it?"

He sighed and turned, leaning back against the wall as his eyes met hers. "It's you."

"Me?" She gulped, as he looked at her from the top of her head to her toes, lingering in places until she felt his eyes would light her on fire. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He pushed away from the wall and came to her slowly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

She wasn't, exactly. "You didn't. I just don't know what's going through your mind."

He took her hands in his. "You are. You are constantly there, even when I tell myself you shouldn't be." Her breath hitched as he brought her closer, leaning his head against hers. "When you walked into the room, I could barely think, and when those men surrounded you, I couldn't stand it. I wanted to be the only one with you. As barbaric as that sounds," he said, ending with a short laugh.

Her stomach clenched at what he was saying, excitement and longing spreading through her. "In that case, I don't mind you pulling me away. I want to be with you. Here, alone," she added, worried he'd think she meant forever. But in that moment, she realized, part of her did. She didn't know how it had happened or happened so quickly, but the idea of marrying Rhys appealed to her. They'd had a connection since the beginning, but it was more than that. She admired him. He was a man who loved his family, had come all this way to protect his sister. He worked to support himself and his family, and had built an empire. He didn't squash those under him. In fact, he did everything he could to raise people up, to reward hard work. Such qualities in his social sphere were rare, and she loved that about him.

He squeezed her hand. "I want to be with you, too, Willow."

"I'm here now."

She leaned back a few inches to look in his eyes. They were clear green, and intense. "And I'm glad, but I want more than that. I want to court you." Her mouth fell open, but before she could speak, he shook his head, pausing her words. "I admire you. Everything you've done in your life, what you're doing now. I appreciate that you took care of Abby when I couldn't. Everything I learn about you, tells me one thing. You are the kind of woman I want to share my life with."

Her heart thrilled at his words, but reality dawned, bringing her down. "It makes me happy to hear you say that, but if we start courting and eventually marry, how will it work? We live in two very different worlds, Rhys."

"Not so different. You forget, I'm wealthy, but my money is new. I'm not accepted in the upper circles, and frankly, I have no desire to be."

"Still…"

He shook his head. "Still nothing. You're wealthy in your own right, and have access to the same society I do. Although, I couldn’t care less about that. All that matters is you're with me."

But that was part of the problem. "Rhys, your business is in the east. I can't leave. My life is here."

"I know. I'm not saying it'll be easy, but we can work it out, if we decide we want to marry. Right now, all I'm asking for is the chance to explore that, to see if it's what we want."

Willow appreciated what he was saying, but she wasn't sure. It all seemed so complicated. He was talking of courting her, of walking down a path toward marriage and a future, but she wasn't convinced their lives meshed enough to work. "I care about you, Rhys. More than I have for anyone. But I just don't know how this would work."

He released her hands and moved his up, cupping her face so she would look in his eyes. "Just have faith. We can work it out if we want to. Let's just enjoy being together."

She didn't know if he was right, but one thing she did know was she couldn't reject him. Not now. She wanted him, wanted it to be possible for them to be together. Because just the thought of him leaving made her ache, and she wasn't sure she would recover from it.

She finally nodded, and he sucked in a breath of satisfaction. "I promise. You won't regret giving me this chance."

"I certainly hope not."

He laughed then and touched his lips to hers. What started off as sweet and soft, laughter and happiness, quickly turned serious. His movements slowed, the brush of his lips lingered, and suddenly, colors swirled behind Willow's eyes.

Moaning, Willow wrapped her arms around Rhys' neck and opened to him. Her lips, her mind—and her heart.

He growled as if sensing her acceptance, her need for him, and wrapped her tightly in his arms. He didn't rush the kiss as she expected, instead, he drew it out, savoring her mouth until they breathed together, kissing, and touching as one.

She'd never felt closer to another person before, had never felt like her soul reached out and wrapped around another’s. But that's what it was like, as if every part of her opened and accepted him, collapsing all barriers.

She'd never felt more herself in her life.

* * *

As Rhys gripped her waist, Willow made a sound of pleasure, and something in him snapped.

"Rhys." She moaned his name, unable to help herself.

Just the sound of his name on her lips brought him to his knees. When he'd seen her in the ballroom with all those men surrounding her, a savage part of him that had only been reserved for business roared to life. She was his, and he'd had no problems scaring the others off. He'd do it again and again to know she was only his. He couldn't fight it anymore. He didn't want to. "I can't get enough of you. Every taste, every touch just makes me want more." He ran his hands up and down her back in heavy strokes. "Tell me you're mine, Willow." Her eyes widened. "Tell me." His words were soft like a caress, but they brooked no argument. His muscles tensed, while he stared in her eyes, waiting for the answer.

"I'm yours, Rhys," she said softly.

He groaned as he ravaged her mouth. He wasn't civilized; he wasn't careful. But he was honest, and he showed her with his lips, his body, how much he cared for her.

Knocking sounded at the door, but he ignored it, knowing whoever was there would leave without his answer. But that little nudge back to reality grounded him. Driven almost to the brink of madness, he pulled away from her, tilting his head to the side and sucking in air. He needed to calm down, bring his body back under control so he could treat her the way she deserved. Willow was important, and he wanted her to know he would do everything in his power to protect her.

Even from himself.

He shook like a wet dog as he choked out his passions.

"Rhys…are you all right?"

The soft puff of her breath on his neck was heaven. How on earth could he possibly wait the time needed to court her before talking her into marrying him? He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he recognized it was right. It wasn't about logic. It was instinct. He needed Willow in his life permanently, and he didn't hesitate with his instincts.

With that knowledge steadying him, he nuzzled her neck and pulled away. "Yes. Just being with you makes me lose control, and I don't want to do anything that would make you feel unvalued."

Her gaze softened, and she reached up and brushed his cheek. There was something in her gaze, and she looked as though she wanted to say something, but instead, she only smiled. "I feel very valued."

"Good." Realizing where they were and more importantly, where they weren't, he cleared his throat. "Um. We should probably get back to the party."

He rubbed his neck sheepishly, and she grinned. "I kind of like the little party we're having in here."

He closed his eyes and whimpered. "You're testing me, Willow."

Eyes still closed, her mouth brushed against his. "And I always will."

His lips quirked as he looked at her. "I wouldn't have you any other way." She blushed, and he wanted to chase the color from her throat to beneath her bodice.

She patted her hair self-consciously. She looked deliciously mussed, but she moved to a mirror on the wall behind his desk in the corner and ran her fingers through her ringlets and brought them to a sense of order. "There. Hopefully no one will suspect."

Oh, but he wanted people to suspect. He wanted all the other men to look at her and know he'd claimed her. He was barbaric, like he'd said earlier, but he couldn't summon up even an ounce of remorse. He wanted her, and she wanted him. He didn't give a fig who knew. He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "You look gorgeou—"

The plank beneath his boot snapped, and he realized instantly Willow was on it, too. He yanked her closer to his body to protect her, but luckily, they only fell a foot. He held her up, and set her back on a sound plank. "Are you injured?"

"I'm all right. Just surprised."

He stepped up and out of the hole before they studied the empty space below. "I guess that plank was rotted, and we missed it somehow. Not surprising, though. The sheer number of boards we replaced was staggering."

"The hotel looks wonderful." She smiled at him reassuringly, and he was amazed by her. She’d fallen through a hole and wasn't ruffled at all, when any woman of his acquaintance back home would have been in hysterics.

He shook his head. "You amaze me, Willow."

"I do?"

"Yes. You appear delicate, but you're strong. I admire that about you." She blushed again, but instead of giving into the urge to kiss her, he took her hand. "If we stay in here much longer, we're going to miss the whole party."

"We couldn't have that," she teased.

He didn't even care about the party any more, either. All he wanted to do was take Willow away and never let go. He cursed and marched toward the door. Turning the knob, he pushed, but the door didn't budge. He pushed again, but it wouldn't open.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

He tried again before stepping back and inspecting the door. "The door is jammed."

"Does that happen a lot?"

"No." Immediately his mind moved through options of what had happened. The door couldn't have warped in that time, but it was possible it'd broken when they'd closed it, even though he hadn't been rough. Looking around the edges, he didn't see any section of the door against the frame. He knelt down and looked through the key hole, but it was clear.

Frowning, he reached in his pocket for the key, and inserted it, turning it back and forth, first locking and then unlocking the mechanism. It was unlocked, so there was so reason it shouldn't open.

He turned the handle and pushed, but again, it wouldn't open.

"Are we stuck?"

For the first time, he heard a tremor of fear in Willow's voice, and he turned to her. "No. The door seems to be sticking, but we're not stuck. I'm surprised someone hasn't come along and asked us to return to the party already, as is."

"All right."

He took in her hunched frame. "Are you scared?"

"I just don't like being locked in rooms."

He frowned. "Were you locked in one before?" She shrugged, but he pressed on. "Tell me."

"My previous employer locked us in closets sometimes, if we did something wrong. Not enough to fire us, but enough to teach us a lesson."

His mouth dropped open. "Are you serious?"

She bit her lip and nodded. "It didn't happen often to me, he had a…preference for me. But when I was locked away, I hated it. I felt as if there wasn't enough air, and I'd panic." She swallowed hard and looked around, as if gauging how much air was currently in the room.

He walked toward her and held her upper arms. "Look at me." He waited for her eyes to meet his. "I'm going to get us out. You needn't be afraid."

She nodded, but didn't look as though she believed him. "Hopefully, someone will come for us soon."

She shivered in his arms, and it was the last straw. He refused to have Willow scared. He let go of her and strode to the door, lifted his leg, and kicked the wood with lethal force. As he'd hoped, the wooden trim was rotted, and gave way easily. The door crashed to the ground in the hall, and debris floated down from the wall where the door had been attached. He looked back at Willow.

Her eyes rounded. "You just kicked down the door."

He raised a brow, as if doing so was an everyday occurrence for him. "I told you I would get you out."

"Yes, but I didn't realize you would do that." She waved at the door.

"Do you want me to put it back?"

"What?"

"The door. I can put it back, and we can wait for someone to find us."

"Of course not." She looked at him as if he were daft, and he barely refrained from laughing. "I'm just sorry you had to damage your hotel."

He went back to her then, and pulled her to his chest. "Sweetheart, it's a door. It can easily be fixed. But seeing you afraid was unbearable."

She relaxed against him. "Thank you."

He kissed the top of her head. "Let's get back to the ballroom. I'll have someone clean this up later."

She leaned back and smiled. "With the door and the hole in the floor, someone will think there was a fight in here."

"I'll be sure to set anyone straight on that note."

She stepped out of the doorway, and Rhys followed, his eye catching on an extra piece of wood. He crouched down and realized why the door hadn't opened. It had been nailed shut.

"What is it?" Willow asked.

He momentarily considered lying, but Willow would want to know. "Someone nailed the door closed so we wouldn't be able to get out."

"What?" She moved beside him, and he pointed out the wooden bar and nail holes. "How did we not hear that?"

"We were a bit preoccupied," he said dryly. "I don't think we would have heard a cannon blast."

She huffed, but didn't argue. He was right. They'd been focused on each other, and not what was happening outside the room. Besides, it wasn't as if it were silent. The ballroom wasn't far, and sounds from the party echoed in the hallway. "What should we do?"

He stood, took her hand, and looked both ways down the hallway to be sure it was empty. "We should return to the ballroom. Someone wanted to delay us, for some reason. I'm assuming it's the same person who's been causing problems at the hotel, but they didn't succeed. The best thing to do is to continue on as if nothing's happened."

Willow mulled over his words, and then nodded. "You're right. We'll handle everything tonight and then figure this out."

He cupped her chin and kissed her softly. "Make sure you don't go anywhere alone tonight. Either take Jared or me, but I don't want you unprotected." He wondered if she would object, but she agreed quickly.

"I won't take any chances."

He kissed her again before taking her hand. "Let's get back to the party." His voice was grim, but it couldn't be helped. Whoever was doing this would be found. He promised himself that.

Chapter 12

Willow scanned the ballroom for the hundredth time, but didn't see anyone or anything out of the ordinary. She didn't know what else she expected. Whoever had been causing problems was good at blending in, at looking like they belonged, or they would've been caught by now.

The fashion show was a hit, and as the women mingled with the crowd, more dress orders than she could ever fulfill came her way.

Abby sidled up to her. "Looks like a success to me."

"Beyond my imaginings. I hope you're ready to work your fingers raw." Willow gave her friend a side smile.

Abby chuckled. "Ready and willing. I can't thank you enough for giving me the work."

"I feel as if I should mention again that you don't need to work, now that Rhys has promised not to cut you off."

Abby shrugged and looked out at the guests. "I'm actually looking forward to it. I'm excited to make my own way. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate everything my family has done for me, but for once, I want to stand on my own two feet."

Willow understood and respected that. She'd never had that type of security, but even though she did now, the desire to succeed was strong. "I think you're going to do great."

From across the room, Rhys looked up from his conversation and met her eyes. She smiled at him, wanting to reassure him. Ever since they'd come back, he hadn't gone more than a few minutes without searching her out.

She looked over at Abby, who was looking slowly from her brother to Willow and back. Breath clogged in Willow's lungs, and she suddenly felt faint. She had no idea how to approach the topic of her relationship with Abby's brother. "Abby…"

"So…you and Rhys?"

Willow blew out a breath, cursing herself for not being more careful. "Yes," she said honestly. It wasn't like they were going to try and hide the relationship, anyway. She might as well know. "Does that upset you?"

"Upset me?" Abby chuckled softly. "Not at all. I'm pleased, actually. Rhys has been hunted down by practically every woman I've ever known. They've wanted his fortune, his power, his connections."

"I just want him."

Abby's grin widened. "I know. You're not the type to go after him for what he could give you. You slammed the door in his face after knowing who he was."

Most of the tension left Willow's shoulders. "Well, I didn't know he was the Rhys Winthrop at the time. But even if I had known, I'd do it again."

"I know." She looked back to Rhys. "So, is that where you went? You and Rhys snuck away?"

Willow snorted. "Is there anything you don't notice?"

She snickered. "Not really. Did he kiss you?"

Willow figured she might as well tell her. "Yes. But it wasn't the first time. We kissed in the library the other day, too."

"I knew it! I knew something was going on between you two."

"Well, you knew before me, then."

"Hey." Abby touched Willow's arm. "Do you love him?"

Willow bit her lip. She hadn't even told Rhys, but she trusted Abby to keep the confidence, even though she was his sister. "I do. I haven't told him, but I do. He asked to court me."

Abby's mouth opened.

"What?"

"Rhys has never courted anyone." Willow's stomach flipped. It shouldn't surprise her. If Rhys had wanted someone in the past, he would have gotten them, but hearing Abby admit Willow was the first, filled her with butterflies. "I'm sure he'll ask you to marry him. I'm surprised he has the patience for courting." She rolled her eyes with a laugh.

"Me, too," Willow agreed. Rhys was a man of action.

The thought brought back what had happened in the office earlier, how someone had locked them in. She'd tried to push the thought from her mind, to continue on with the evening and enjoy the success, but now it was once more at the forefront. Who would've done such a thing?

A notch appeared between Abby's brows. "What is it? You've gone serious. Are you worried about Rhys' intentions?"

"No. Nothing like that. It's just…while we were gone, something happened."

"What?"

She leaned closer to Abby, so they wouldn't be overheard. "Someone trapped us in the room."

Abby gasped. "How?"

"They'd nailed a board over the door. Rhys kicked it down to get us out."

"He…kicked down the door." She shook her head. "I can't blame him. Are you both all right, though?"

"It shook me up a bit, but we're fine."

"I would be shaken up, too, if I'd been trapped. But what was the point?"

Willow shook her head slowly, running through all the same possibilities as before. "That's the thing I don't know."

"I just wish all of this would stop. I feel like it's only a matter of time until something else happens. I'm already looking over my shoulder."

"Me, too." This needed to end soon.

* * *

Rhys never ignored his gut. So when the party ended, he went back to his office. The mess around the doorway had already been cleaned up thanks to housekeeping, and the door was slated to be fixed tomorrow. Rhys would make sure the next door and lock were more secure.

The hotel was empty of the party guests, and cleanup was well underway. By the time breakfast was served in the morning, it would be as if it'd never happened. He wondered if it would be like that once the person was caught as well.

He blew out a breath and peered into the office before stepping in. The building was empty and quiet, now that the guests had settled down for the night. He really needed to get to bed, too, since he had an early morning, but something had nagged at him, and he hadn't been able to let it go.

The hole in the floor.

He didn't realize it at the time, but it hadn't looked rotted. There had been so many repairs to the hotel, so much that needed maintenance, he'd brushed it off as just another thing. But he wondered if that was the case.

He walked behind his desk and peered at the hole. The board would have held if he hadn't been standing behind Willow. Their combined weight had been too much for it.

He smiled, thinking about the moment with her. He hoped there were a ton more moments like that in their future.

He crouched, noticing that while one side of the board was snapped, the other was smooth, as if it hadn't been nailed down. Rhys frowned and studied the board. It was as if someone had replaced it with duplicate board, so no one would know it was there, but it would be easy to access.

Had Mr. Clayton kept money down there? If he had, he would have mentioned it, and cleared it out when he handed the hotel over. But he hadn't said a word.

He peered into the still empty hole. It was dark, and rather unimpressive looking, and he hated to think what might be lingering along the edges of the space down there. But there was that feeling again. He couldn't let it go, couldn't replace the board until he knew for certain nothing was down there.

He reached his hand into the pit, grimacing and bracing himself for the bite of a rat on his fingers. After a moment, nothing attacked him. He lay on the floor, reaching farther underneath the boards, surprised at how large the gap was.

Right before he was about to accept nothing was down there, his fingers brushed against something hard.

Something that felt like wood.

He froze, then reached for it again, skimming his hand along the item. Wood and metal. With a few muttered curses, he gripped the edge of the object to pull it forward. His fingers slipped a few times, but after a moment, he had the box below the opening and was pulling it out.

It wasn't extraordinary by any means. In fact, it was rather crude work. There appeared to be a carving on the top, but it was too dusty to see what it was. Rhys blew across the top, sending dust motes dancing in the air. He wiped off what else he could and looked at the carving.

DP.

Rhys froze as he read the two letters carved on top. DP. It couldn't be… Unable to help himself, he reached for the latch, but at the same time, he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye.

He raised his arm instinctively a second before a piece of wood broke over it. Pain seared through him, but he didn't give in. Moving quickly, he rolled, hearing another crash where he'd been, just seconds before.

He kicked out, connecting with his attacker's leg. Baritone curses filled the air, but in the dim lighting, Rhys couldn't tell who it was. Before he could attack again, the man took off, running out of the room and down the hall.

Rhys was up and chasing after him, but once he turned the corner, there was no sign of anyone. He cursed and strained for any sound that would give his attacker away, but there was nothing. He waited an extra minute before heading back to his office, thinking over what had just happened.

He'd been alone in the office, and had found what appeared to be DP's hoard. Had it been a coincidence Rhys had been in the office then, or had the man followed him?

The person hadn't attacked until Rhys had pulled the box up, but again, that could have been the timing. This whole time, Rhys hadn't known what the attacks on the hotel had been about, but now he wondered if they had something to do with the box he'd uncovered.

With the sale of the hotel, the legend about the treasure had picked up again. And then when Willow and Abby uncovered the note, a fervor had started. Either someone was after him, which he doubted, because he hadn't had attacks like this before he came to town, or it was about something else. He was willing to bet this was about the treasure.

When it came to money, people killed for it. He'd seen what greed could do to a person. And the lure of treasure was hard to deny. But now that he had it, the person would be even more desperate. The fact they'd tried to bludgeon him tonight proved that. How much more aggressive would they become?

He didn't know what they were capable of, but the one thing he did know was that Willow and Abby wouldn't be caught in the middle. Whatever happened, they would be safe.

Chapter 13

Willow hadn't known what to expect when Rhys had asked both Abby and herself to come to his office the next morning, but she would've never guessed this. "You're sending us away?" she asked, clarifying to make sure she'd understood correctly.

"I wouldn't put it that way, but in essence, yes. It's not safe here."

Abby frowned. "Rhys—"

"I mean it, Abby. This is dangerous. Someone attacked me last night. They could've killed me."

Willow couldn't stand the thought of anything happening to him, but she couldn't just run away, either. "What happened?" None of this made sense. He'd been attacked, but why?

Rhys blew out a breath. "I don't know why they attacked when they did, but I have a guess." He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a large, tarnished box.

"What is that?" Willow stepped closer and looked at it, almost dismissing it until she read the letters carved into the top. Her eyes widened. "DP's hoard? Is the treasure inside?"

"Yes." He unlatched the box and opened it.

Breath clogged her lungs at the contents. There was a bundle of letters tied together on side of the box, next to thick stacks of paper bills, hunks of gleaming gold nuggets, and three sapphires the size of quarters. "You found this here? When?"

His eyes were grim. "Late last night, just minutes before I was attacked. Remember the hole in the floor? Something about it bothered me, so I came to look at it before bed. I realized the board wasn't original to the floor, and someone had just placed it there. Apparently, with our combined weight, it cracked."

Abby looked between the two of them. "Combined weight?" She grinned. "Maybe you shouldn't tell me." She winked at Willow, and even though she wasn't squeamish, she felt a flush rush to her cheeks.

"Yes. Both our weight," Rhys said dryly. "Back to the point. I realized the hole might be larger than we first suspected, a place Mr. Clayton kept valuables, so I reached down and found the box. I had just pulled it out and realized what it was when I saw something from the corner of my eyes and blocked the blow meant for my head."

Hearing what had happened sent ice through Willow's veins. "Are you sure you're all right?"

He waved her concern away. "I'm fine. My arm is a little bruised, but not badly damaged. The point is—" he leaned back in his chair "—whoever attacked me most likely wants this. They're escalating, and I don't know what else they'll do. But whatever it is, I can't have you here." He was looking at Abby then at Willow, when he added, "Either of you."

Willow shook her head. "I'm not leaving."

Abby folded her arms. "Me either."

He raked a hand through his hair. "I can't protect you. If this person attacked me here last night, they could be anywhere. They could be anyone. I can't keep you safe unless you leave."

Willow stepped forward and placed her hands on the desk. "And what about you, Rhys? Are you going to be safe? Who will protect you?"

"I'll be fine."

He said it confidently, but Willow wasn't buying it. "If this person is as desperate as you say, nothing will stop them. They won't care about killing you. But let me tell you something, I care. I care if you die, Rhys. And I'm not going to leave when I can stay and do something about it."

He jumped from his chair and leaned in close. "You will leave. I can't concentrate on catching the person when I'm worried about you. Don't you get it? It would gut me if something happened to you!"

Silence filled the room for a moment, before Abby cleared her throat. "I'm going to the dining room so you two can have a moment of privacy." She walked toward the door, but paused before leaving. "I agree with Willow on this, Rhys. I'm not leaving, either. You'll have to think of another way." She left before hearing his response, closing the newly hung door behind her.

Willow and Rhys looked at each other from across the desk. She could see his mind already working, spinning a million miles an hour, trying to figure out a way to get her to leave. But it didn't matter what he said, she wouldn't do it. "I'm not leaving you, Rhys."

"You have to. I told you. Unless you're safely away, I can't do this."

"You will do this. And I'll be here beside you."

He let out a frustrated breath, and tugged at his collar. "You don't understand."

That was the last straw for her. Her hands balled into fists at her waist. "Oh, I understand just fine. But I think you're the one who doesn't. I love you, Rhys. And if you think I'm going to leave and let you face this alone, you're out of your mind." His shocked expression would've been comical, if she wasn't so angry.

He stepped around his desk slowly and stood beside her. "You're in love with me?"

She launched daggers with her eyes. "Of course I am! I thought that was obvious. And I'll say it one more time, Rhys. I'm not leaving. Ever—"

But before she could say anything else, she was in his arms, and his lips were coming down to hers. The moment they touched, heat, longing, fear, and hope filled her. She loved this man with every inch of her heart, and just the thought of losing him scared her.

She kissed him fiercely, using her lips to tell him everything that was in her heart. She clutched him closer, taking and giving as he needed—as she needed—until their movements slowed, until their kisses tapered off, and he tugged her head down to his chest to cradle her. "I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you," he finally said.

She had her arms wrapped around his waist and squeezed. "I know. I feel the same." She pulled away a few inches to look into his face. She could see the worry in his eyes, the fear of what might happen. "I love you," she said again. "We can do this. Together."

A soft laugh escaped him. "You're never going to listen to a word I say, are you? It won't matter if we've been married one year or fifty."

Willow's heart thundered. "Are we getting married?"

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I sure hope so. I don't want to live my life without you."

"You're going to have to ask."

"Will you marry me?" he asked seriously.

A puff of amusement left her lips. "I didn't mean now. I just meant when all this was done. To make it official."

He leaned forward and brushed a kiss against her lips. "I don't want to wait to make it official. I love you with all my heart, and I want everyone to know you're mine. Marry me, Willow. Say you'll be my wife, that we'll never be apart. You can boss me around and ignore anything I have to say if you disagree with me. I value you. I respect you. I want you as my wife, lover, mother of my children, companion, but mostly, as my partner. I could wait for a fancy dinner, or to have a ring to give you, or any of the other things that are supposed to go with this moment, but the plain fact is, everything we need is here." He tapped the center of his chest. "I will love you even after the last breath leaves my body."

"Rhys." Willow breathed out his name, overwhelmed by his words. Every word of his declaration shone through his eyes, and she couldn't deny him, didn't want to. Her hands went to the back of his head, and she held him there. "Yes. I'll marry you."

His smile lit up his eyes, and it filled her mind as she closed her eyes and welcomed his kiss. Pure bliss flowed through her, filling every inch of her soul

They held each other, kissing and basking in the moment until they finally pulled apart and just stood there in each other's arms.

He kissed the top of her head. "I know there are things to figure out about how we'll live, but as long as you're willing to travel with me a few times a year, we can stay here."

She pulled away, surprised. "Here? In Promise Creek?" He nodded. "But what about your business?"

"I can handle it from here, and I have excellent employees. We will have to leave sometimes, but the railway makes it easy, and we won't have to be gone long."

"That's more than I ever expected." She brushed her lips against his. "Thank you. It means so much to me."

"It's just as well anyway, Abby isn't going to leave." He gave an aggrieved sigh, and Willow laughed.

"I'm glad you've finally figured that out. What about your mother?"

"I'll see if she wants to live here as well, but I have a feeling she'll stay where she is. She’s comfortable there, she has her life and her friends. I don't want to take that from her."

"You're an amazing man."

He leaned down and nuzzled her. "I'm your man."

Shivers skated along her skin. "I don't think I'll ever get used to you doing that." Her words came out more like a moan.

"I don't want you to, sweetheart. Not ever."

* * *

Willow tapped her heels on the marble flooring in the dining room. "I wonder how much longer it's going to take."

"Perhaps all night." Abby shrugged. "Hopefully not longer than that."

They'd refused to leave town, but Rhys had insisted they stay in the dining room while they set a trap. He felt they'd be safest there, but Willow silently disagreed. Nowhere was safe right now. And since they didn't want to tip anyone off, she'd sent Jared away like she always had once she was safely tucked into the hotel. If she suddenly asked him to stay with her, it would have been suspicious. "I don't get why we can't be there with him," she grumbled, even though she knew exactly why they shouldn't be. They could get in the way, or be used against Rhys. She just hated waiting.

"The person is desperate. I don't think it'll be much longer. Whoever it is needs money, and it'll be so much easier to get it behind a locked door to Rhys' office than a bank vault."

But that was the whole point. Gossip had spread through the hotel like wildfire that morning, once Rhys told a few people about his find. Whoever was after it already knew it would be kept in his office until tomorrow, she could practically guarantee it. The person they were looking for worked at the hotel. They'd had access to too many places to think otherwise.

And with the knowledge Rhys would deposit the treasure tomorrow, this was the small window someone had to take advantage of it.

Rhys had made a large show of leaving the hotel for a meeting, when in fact, he was hiding in the library next to the office. He'd drilled a small hole in the wall, enough so it wouldn't be noticed, but they'd still be able see through. Right now, both he and the sheriff lie in wait—as she sipped tea.

She placed her cup down with a sound of disgust. "I should be there with him."

Abby reached across the table and took her hand. "I know what you mean, but it's better this way. He would only be distracted, trying to take care of you."

She realized that, but she didn't like it. "I just hope he doesn’t think this sort of thing is always going to happen in the future."

Abby squeezed her hand. "I highly doubt that. I'm so pleased for you two." When she'd found out about their engagement, Abby had squealed with delight and hugged both of them. "It'll be wonderful to have a sister."

"And even more wonderful to have Rhys stop pushing you to leave?" Her lips twisted in amusement.

"That too." She grinned.

They chatted for another hour until she thought she would go mad. When Jared approached her, relief filled her. He must need something, and she was ready to do anything but sit here. "Is something wrong?"

He tipped his hat. "Sorry to bother you, Miss Packer. Mr. Winthrop has asked for you, and wanted me to escort you to him."

Willow frowned. "He did? What about Abby?"

"She's to remain here."

Willow looked to Abby who shrugged. "He probably just needs to tell you something. Might as well hurry, so you can come back here and keep me company." She said it a little too sweetly.

Willow rolled her eyes and stood. "I'll be back in a minute." She smiled at Jared. "Thank you."

He gestured for her to lead on, and she wove through the hotel before stepping toward the library. "I'll just be a moment," she said, glancing over her shoulder at Jared.

"I'll be right here when you're ready to return," he assured her.

She opened the door and stepped into the room before closing it. Both Rhys and Sawyer jumped. "Is everything all right?" she asked.

Rhys came over to her. "Yes, but I was just going to ask you the same thing. Are you okay?"

"Yes." She drew out the word, confused. "Has there been any progress?"

He shook his head. "No. You'll be the first to know if there is."

"All right. Well, what can I do for you?"

He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed softly. "Stay with Abby. I need to know you're both safe. Please. I'll come to you if anything happens."

Willow frowned and pulled out of his arms. "Wait. I'm confused. Did you not ask me to come to you?"

He shook his head. "No. Last we spoke, we agreed to have you stay in the dining room."

Willow's stomach did a sickening turn. "So, you didn't ask Jared to bring me here? You didn't need to talk to me?"

Rhys' gaze darted to Sawyer, and Sawyer looked through the hole in the wall and cursed before running past them. "He's in the office!"

Rhys took off after him. "Stay here!" he yelled back to her.

Willow didn't think of arguing, she was too shocked over the revelation. She couldn't believe it. It had been him all the while. Her own guard. It was incredible to think of all the times he'd been away from here, causing trouble, hurting people. She'd never suspected him for a moment.

At least they now knew who it was. She was sure Sawyer and Rhys had already captured him by now. She sighed and moved toward a chair, but before she sat, the door behind her opened. "Did you catch him alread—"

A hand clamped over her mouth. Her eyes widened, and she screamed, the sound completely muffled by the hand. She was jerked against a hard, heaving body, and panic swirled through her.

"Scream again and I'll kill you."

Jared's voice filtered through her brain, his lips close to her ear, and his breath on her neck sent a shiver of revulsion through her.

"Do you understand me?" he asked one more time, allowing her to nod. "Good. Where is the treasure? It wasn't in the box in the office, so where is he hiding it? Tell me, and I'll let you go. Betray me, and you'll die."

She knew he meant it, too. She'd been around enough rough men to know when one was dangerous. It was something she'd sensed about him, but she'd put the worry out of her mind because he'd been there to protect her. It had been the same with Juliette's former bodyguard and now husband. How wrong they'd all been.

She nodded one last time, and he removed his hand before turning her roughly in his arms. "Tell me."

"It's…it's in the office. It's just back in the ground where he found it. The box was a ruse."

Jared considered her answer. "Show me where." He pulled a gun out of his holster, and cocked it. "But don't get any ideas. Rhys and that idiot sheriff are outside looking for me. They won't be able to get to you."

Rhys' voice entered the conversation. "You sure about that?"

Jared spun in the blink of an eye, taking her with him as a human shield. "I'm surprised you realized I circled back," he sneered. "Thought a hobnob like you wouldn't notice."

Rhys shrugged and stepped farther into the room. "Guess I must have some brains." He looked at Willow then, gauging whether she was injured or not. "Jared, the sheriff now knows it was you. The attack, the poisoning, the sabotage. All of it. You haven't done anything worth hanging. Let her go and turn yourself in. I'll put in a good word for you."

Bitter laughter spewed from his lips. "How perfectly pleasant of you. But no, thanks. I'd rather have the money and be on my way. Now—" he held the gun up to Willow's head "—she's going to show me where it is, and then I'll be out of here. If you let us go and she gives me the treasure, I'll release her once I'm safely away."

Rhys shook his head. "No. You're not leaving this room with her. If you want the treasure, then take me hostage. I'll give it to you. Willow doesn't need to be a part of this."

Jared seemed to debate a moment, before shrugging and moving the gun to Rhys. "Doesn't matter to me who I have at the other end of this, as long as I get what I want." He pushed Willow away from him, and she tumbled into the chair.

Rhys' eyes narrowed, but he didn't glance at her. "Why did you do it all, anyway? What was the point of the sabotage?"

Jared snorted. "If you haven't figured it out, maybe you aren't as smart as you think."

"Was it always about the treasure?"

"What else? The sabotage was to throw you off my trail. I knew you'd suspect one of your employees and would never look in my direction. Plus, while you were busy chasing down those leads, it gave me time to search your rooms without getting caught."

"That's why you locked us in the office the other night?"

Jared shrugged. "It gave me a chance to look around more. I thought it would hold you a lot longer, though." He glared at the room. "Mold pit, if I've ever seen one," he said before looking back at Rhys. "Enough stalling. Get moving." Rhys had his hands up and took a slow step backward.

Anger filled Willow until all she saw was a red haze. Jared was threatening the man she loved. It was inexcusable. He thought he could hurt them and take something that didn't belong to him. Her jaw clenched, and she watched as Rhys took another few steps.

"That's right. Nice and easy," Jared taunted. He glanced at Willow, and she made show of cowering away from him. He snorted. "Knew you were just like the other women. Weak."

It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to wait the five seconds needed until he dismissed her again and stepped toward Rhys.

Then she attacked.

She launched herself at him, aiming for the gun, knowing if she could set it off course, it wouldn't hit Rhys, even if Jared pulled the trigger. The weapon didn't go off, but it was still in his hand. She screamed, plowing into him again.

He cursed and backhanded her, sending her flying to the floor. Before she bounded back to her feet, Rhys was yelling and on top of Jared, pummeling him.

The gun skidded across the floor, and her feet slipped from under her as she lunged for it. She fumbled it in her hand, but brought it back up as the men struggled, trying to gain dominance.

"Stop! I will shoot you, Jared, if you make another move." She leaned forward and said ominously, "And you know I can. You've seen me shooting with Belle."

Rhys held him down, but Jared still looked spitting mad. He bucked furiously.

She would have cocked the gun to make her point, but the weapon was already primed and ready. Her eyes narrowed. "Don't test me."

Sheriff Morrison stepped through the door then. "I think you should listen to the woman, Jared. You know how temperamental they can be."

He winked at Willow, and, for the first time in a while, she wanted to laugh as relief coursed through her. Everything was going to be okay, and she wasn't going to have to shoot anyone today.

His gun in his hand, he nodded for Rhys to get off Jared. "You only get one chance at this, so don't mess up. No sudden movements now. You're under arrest."

Though he'd tried to hurt them, Jared didn't appear to be a fool. He did exactly as the sheriff asked and was taken into custody quietly.

When it was safe to do so, Rhys moved to her and took her into his arms. She shook, allowing herself to finally process what had happened.

He shushed her and held her tight. "Everything is all right now. It's over."

She knew it was, knew the accidents at the hotel, the injuries, the break-ins, they were done, but it seemed almost too good to be true.

He kissed her forehead, and she sighed into his chest, loving the feel of him, loving being against him. Just loving him. "I love you, Rhys. I couldn't have borne it, if something had happened to you."

"I know. But everyone is fine. Even Jared, and I didn't expect that, earlier. Now, we can look forward to the rest of our lives and leave this behind."

A kernel of doubt seeded in her heart, and she pulled away to look at him. "You still want to get married, right?"

His mouth opened a moment before he spoke. "Of course. I love you. Why do you doubt?"

"This situation was intense. I didn't know if you'd feel the same way now that it's over."

He cradled her face and kissed her gently. "Never, ever doubt my love for you. It doesn't matter what we go through, what we face, that will never change. You still want to marry me, right?"

The tremor of doubt in his voice made all her concerns vanish. "Of course. I don't think you could get away from me, now. You're stuck with me." She said it teasingly, and was pleased to see a twinkle in his eye. "I hope you enjoy having a businesswoman for a wife."

He scooped her in his arms, and she squealed as he cradled her to his chest. "I couldn't think of anything better."

When his lips met hers, her life had never seemed sweeter.

Epilogue

Willow knocked on Rhys' office door. They'd been married a year, and while it had been a whirlwind, it had been every bit as wonderful as she'd imagined marriage to be. He'd asked to see her, but she couldn't wait to tell him her news. She held in a nervous giggle as she cradled her flat, corseted stomach. She would have to start letting her stays out soon.

She couldn't wait.

"Come in."

She opened the door, and Rhys was already around his desk and coming toward her. "I told you, you don't have to knock." He laughed and scooped her in his arms, before kissing the breath out of her.

Willow held on, enjoying the storm. Enjoying him.

He nipped at her lips at the end, and there was heat in his eyes. "I wish we were back in our rooms."

Willow chuckled and shook her head. "If we were home, we wouldn't get anything done the rest of the day."

He spun her around and crowded her up against his desk. "Oh, we'd get something done, all right. In fact, let's do something now."

She laughed as he pressed his lips to hers and lay her down on the desk. He ravished her mouth, loving her with every inch of his body, until she'd almost forgotten what she'd come to tell him.

He broke from her lips and trailed kisses down her neck to her collar bone. "Rhys, there's something I need to tell you."

"Hmmm?"

She bit her lip, amused he was so thoroughly distracted. "I wanted to tell you I'll need to order new dresses soon. Several new dresses. I'd like some from back east, if possible. I think the women around here would enjoy some new ideas."

"Anything you want. A million dresses."

She laughed then and reached down to cup his chin, raising it to eye level. "Thank you, love. But don't you want to know why I need more?" she asked sweetly.

Some of the heat left his eyes as he processed her words. "It is odd, but I assumed you wanted more. Did something happen to your wardrobe?" He frowned.

She shook her head. "Not at all. They're gorgeous. I'm just certain none of my dresses will fit much longer." She arched a brow at his silence.

His jaw went slack as his gaze darted to her waist. "Are you saying…"

"Yes." She nodded, tears springing to her eyes as joy filled his. "We're having a baby."

He whooped and scooped her off the desk. "A baby? Are you absolutely certain?"

She giggled. "Yes. I'm positive."

His mouth fused to hers then, his kiss filled with excitement. He couldn't seem to get enough, and she finally laughed through the kiss. "I'm glad you're so happy about it."

He squeezed her, not caring about her teasing. "I'm more than happy, I'm thrilled. I've wanted this for so long."

So had she. She ran her hands through his hair. "You're going to be a wonderful father."

"And you'll be the best mother." He kissed her nose. "And just in case you're not pregnant—"

"I am pregnant."

"Just in case you're not," he continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "I think we should make absolutely sure you will be."

She realized what he meant as he walked out the door, carrying her down the hall. "Rhys, put me down! Everyone will know where we're going!" She hid her face in his shoulder, embarrassed, amused, and aroused all at once.

He nodded to one of the maids, who snickered as they passed.

"Oh, good heavens!"

"They already know I adore you."

"But we've never made this much of a spectacle."

He shrugged. "It's my hotel. If anyone is allowed to make a spectacle, it's me."

She snorted. "That's true. However, the hotel is mine now, as well." She wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him closer so she could place a hot, open-mouthed kiss against his warmed skin.

He sucked in a breath and cursed, moving faster toward their rooms.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" she asked, teasing him with her lips, driving him mad.

He muttered something, a swear word, she thought. "An old associate wants to meet with you and Ivan's brides. They have a business proposition."

"All right." She could only imagine what they wanted. They'd had all sorts of offers since the mine had paid out over a year ago. "I'm sure that'll be fine."

"I set the meeting for next week," he said, a moment before storming through their front door, barely closing it before heading straight for the bedroom.

He set her gently on the bed before taking one step back to rip his coat off. "Now, my lovely, amazing wife, no more talk of business. There's something even more important I need to tell you."

She wiggled to get more comfortable as he started unbuttoning his shirt. "Oh? And what is that?"

The white shirt hit the floor, leaving his chest bare, and her fingers itched to touch the firm skin. It didn't matter how long they'd been married, how many times they'd been together like this, the craving she had for him hadn't dimmed. It had only increased.

He lowered on top of her, taking her lips in a long, soft kiss. He broke off and looked into her eyes. "How you're the most important person in my life. How I love you with every part of my soul." Another soft kiss. "And how I can't wait to hold our son or daughter. You've made me the happiest of men. What can I do for you? How do I repay for something so priceless?"

Joy and love filled every corner of her heart. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her as if she would never let go. "There's nothing to repay. You've shown me more love than I've ever imagined. As long as we keep loving each other, as long as we take care of one another, everything will be perfect."

"I intend to. Every single day for the rest of my life." He leaned forward and sealed his words with a kiss.

Willow knew she was the luckiest woman ever. She'd come from nothing and was now with the man she loved, and soon they'd have a child to love just as much.

Promise Creek wasn't just a safe haven for her.

It had been her destiny.

* * *

A week later, excited chatter filled the ballroom, and Willow smiled at the madness. That always seemed to be the case when Ivan's brides got together. Their group was even larger now, with the addition of husbands and children. There was no way they would all fit in the living room at Ivan's house any longer, the place where all their past group discussions had taken place.

She'd announced she was pregnant once they were all there, and everyone had squealed in delight. They were almost as excited as she was. She was the last bride to get married, and the last one to conceive, but it didn't matter they'd all done it first. Now, it was like they were one gigantic family.

Several of the husbands stood off to the side, no doubt wondering what this mysterious man wanted from the women. Heaven only knew. The women were curious, but they were more interested in catching up and watching Sawyer and Clara's son toddle around.

"I can't believe he's walking!" Willow cried when he took two steps after Jack, Sadie and Owen's boy, before falling on his padded bottom. He looked at Clara as if he were worried, but when she smiled encouragingly at him, he cooed.

Violet's lips quirked as she rubbed her large belly. "Seeing how cute they are when they come out is the only reason I'm holding on at this point."

Her husband, Jimmy, who was never far from her side, kissed her hand and held it. "Just a little longer, darling."

Her lips twisted in amusement. "I think you're growing the next one we have."

"I'll endeavor to please you."

Violet rolled her eyes, but when she looked back at the group, Willow could see the pleasure there.

Olivia, Belle, and Rosalie huddled together, all cuddling their little bundles, while Aria occasionally spoke up from the circle, and asked her step-children to stop jumping against the walls. Their little sister, just barely one year old, was trying to copy them with tiny hops. Aria heaved a laughing sigh. "I swear, I don't know what I'm going to do when the next one comes. I have my hands full." She grinned, and even through her words, Willow knew Aria would handle it just fine. She had the temperament to have twenty children.

The men laughed in the corner about heaven knew what, and Willow chuckled. Everyone was so happy, so well settled. It was almost unbelievable to think that just a couple of years ago, things had been so different, life had been hard and unsettled and messy—well, it was messy now, but in a good way. Living and loving was a messy business when done right.

Rhys walked into the room with a gentleman, a man who had the looks of a golden warrior god, and everyone settled down. The group of husbands broke up and went to either sit next to or stand behind their wives. The women looked at each other with raised eyebrows, surprised, but noting the handsome man.

"Thank you all for coming. I hope you've been having a good time," Rhys said.

Several of them nodded and smiled, and Willow glanced over at the buffet they'd placed out, noticing much of the food was gone. It felt wonderful to host a gathering like this for her friends. And it was good they had the hotel, or else they wouldn't all be able to get together unless they were outside. That would have left all winter parties out, she thought ruefully, before giving her attention back to Rhys.

He smiled at her like he knew what she'd been thinking before he continued. "I'd like to introduce you all to Mr. Chase Eversly. He's an associate of mine from New York, and I believe an acquaintance of Mrs. Violet Thornton."

Violet nodded at both of them. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Eversly."

The man tipped his hat in reply, not smudging the polished, slicked-back blond hair beneath.

Rhys rubbed his hands together. "Now that the pleasantries are done with, I'll turn the floor over to you, Chase." He moved and sat next to Willow, taking her hand in his.

She smiled and kissed his cheek.

Mr. Eversly held up his hand. "Thank you all for taking the time to meet with me. I know you all have busy lives, and much better things to do with your time. In that regard, I'll speak plainly, so you can all enjoy the rest of your day."

"Thank you," Asher called from the back a little too enthusiastically, and everyone in the room chuckled. Asher was a former recluse, and while he still preferred the solitude living on the mountain provided, he made a point to visit in town. Just not too often.

Mr. Eversly grinned. "Quite. My thoughts, exactly. Well, then, straight to the point. I, and five business partners, have staked a large claim northwest of here. Copper, not gold, in case you hadn't heard."

"Oh, we've heard," Ronan said. "People are already calling you the Copper Kings."

"Are they?" He seemed amused by the term, but waved it away. "The deposits there are staggering, and operations will continue for years, if not decades. However, perhaps more importantly, since the claim is less than five miles from here, we've decided to invest in Promise Creek, instead of building our own town."

Rhys perked up. "Starting when?"

"Immediately, I hope. Most of you will understand such an undertaking will take time and vast amounts of resources. Promise Creek is established, but we'll be bringing in hundreds of more workers. We'll need to expand what's here, and build upon it. More shops, restaurants, housing, services, even a library, and a school."

Willow's head reeled with the information. With this kind of support, Promise Creek would flourish beyond their imagination.

Cameron Grant spoke up from behind Aria. "How do we play a part in this plan?"

Mr. Eversly nodded, as if grateful for the question. "While we will try to lure families to come here, it is more likely we'll only be able to find single men. But as I'm sure you're all aware, having been through that yourself, that will cause a shortage of women. We want our employees satisfied. This isn't a quick job, and we want a stable work force. So, on that note, we plan to bring women here as well. Single women."

"Mail-order brides?" Juliette asked, the skepticism in her voice evident.

"No. We're not looking to marry off the men, but we want women here in case our workers want to settle down. If they do, we want them to have a variety of women to choose from. Wholesome, good women they can raise families with. We aren't looking to cheapen the town and create an unsavory society. We're looking to build something here. Something that will last."

Willow quickly thought of the implications of what he was saying. It would no doubt boost her business, but it would boost everything. More children, more community, more friends and family. It might be rough at the start, figuring it all out, but they would get past that.

Clara spoke up. "What will you have the women do? Where will they stay?"

"That's where you come in. We've heard about the house you all inherited. It's large enough to house several more women besides the one already there. Miss Winthrop, I believe." He looked to Rhys, and he nodded curtly next to her.

Willow squeezed his hand in reassurance, already knowing he didn't like that Mr. Eversly knew his sister's whereabouts and that she was alone there.

"With the house mostly empty, my partners and I were hoping use it as a landing place as women arrive. We want somewhere safe where they won't be harassed, where they can settle in and adjust to their new lives here before relocating somewhere else permanently."

"How long would you want to use the house?" Rhys asked.

"That can be negotiated."

Rhys rubbed his chin. "I've also been considering an expansion on the hotel, and it seems like I'll move forward with it, now that the town will grow. I should be able to house women as an overflow, if necessary."

"Thank you. Are there any questions?" He asked to everyone in the group.

Conversation continued for another fifteen minutes, as more details were discussed, and everyone seemed satisfied.

Willow thought it was wonderful, and she was excited the house would be used again. This just felt right, like it was meant to be. From the looks on everyone's faces, they agreed as well. Although Abby was there, the empty house had weighed on them.

Mr. Eversly shook their hands, finally ending with Rhys. "I'll have my lawyer wire over the contracts. Let me know when you make your final decision."

"We will. Although I can't give you an official answer now, things look good. I'm looking forward to working with you and your partners. Anyone I know?"

The suave-looking businessman shrugged evasively, and Willow wondered if he was hiding something. "I'm sure you've run into a few of them here and there."

Willow didn't doubt that. If the men were in business and successful at all, Rhys would know them. And considering the size, scope, and resources for this operation, Willow figured the men had to be at the level of kings.

Rhys escorted Mr. Eversly out, and excited chatter started up again, only dimming slightly when Rhys returned.

"What did you all think? Is this something we want to do?" he asked.

The men looked to their wives, and Willow's heart filled. No matter what, all of them, every single one, respected their wives and their right to decide what to do with their inheritance from Ivan. Willow went to his side. "I think we should do it. I'm excited for what this will bring, and even more so, I'm excited Ivan's legacy will live on."

The women laughed and agreed. Clara stood, and Willow and the others joined her. They reached out to each other, forming a circle. "Ivan was crazy, but I think he knew what he was doing when he brought us all here." Willow's throat clenched at the words. "He saved us, he brought us together, and gave us more than we ever could have imagined. I think it's right we do the same for these women."

Aria shook her head with a laugh. "To Ivan."

"To Ivan!" The rest of them repeated with a mixture of laughter and tears. They were all married and happily settled. This could have been the end, but Willow realized the Copper Kings were just another beginning. A new dawn for them and Promise Creek.

Others would come, and while some things would change, even more would stay the same.

And Willow couldn't wait to see what happened next.

Titles by Janelle Daniels

Miners to Millionaires

A Mail-Order Heart (Miners to Millionaires - Book 1)

A Mail-Order Wish (Miners to Millionaires – Book 2)

A Mail-Order Hope (Miners to Millionaires – Book 3)

A Mail-Order Dream (Miners to Millionaires – Book 4)

A Mail-Order Chance (Miners to Millionaires – Book 5)

A Mail-Order Dawn (Miners to Millionaires – Book 6)

A Mail-Order Escape (Miners to Millionaires – Book 7)

A Mail-Order Illusion (Miners to Millionaires – Book 8)

A Mail-Order Haven (Miners to Millionaires – Book 9)

A Mail-Order Destiny (Miners to Millionaires – Book 10)

Scandals & Secrets

Scandal of Love (Scandals & Secrets - Book 1)

Masquerade Secrets (Scandals & Secrets - Book 2)

Secrets in Mourning (Scandals & Secrets - Book 3)

A Kiss with Scandal (Scandals & Secrets - Book 4)

A Christmas Secret (Scandals & Secrets – Book 4.5)

Single Title Romance

Sunkissed

My Only Wish

Collaborations

Kitty: Bride of Hawaii (American Mail-Order Brides)

Falling for a Duke (Timeless Regency Collection)

The Witches of Redwood Falls

The Witching Moon (The Witches of Redwood Falls - Book 1)

The Witches Craft (The Witches of Redwood Falls - Book 2)

Discover other titles by Janelle Daniels

www.JanelleDaniels.com

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A MAIL-ORDER DESTINY

Dream Cache Publishing

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

www.janelledaniels.com

Copyright © 2018 by Janelle Daniels

Cover Art © 2018 Erin Dameron-Hill

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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.