Big Sky Love Read online

  Table of Contents

  Big Sky Love

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Big Sky Love

  About The Author

  Further Reading: Final Hours

  Big Sky Love

  Redemption of the Seven Book 2

  Cate Dean

  Copyright, 2016

  All Rights Reserved.

  NO PART OF THIS BOOK may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except for use in any review. This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, locales, and events are either pure invention or used fictitiously, and all incidents come from the author’s imagination alone.

  Cover Design by ResplendentMedia.com

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  SEVEN MEN, CONDEMNED by a witch for hurting the woman they loved. Only another witch can help them find redemption.

  CHARLES DE WITT IS the next to be chosen by the pendant – and he finds himself in a small town in the Wild West. It is unlike his own time, but he is determined to make a go of saving himself, no matter who the pendant chooses for him.

  That choice turns out to be a petite, red-haired spitfire, so different from the women he prefers he knows it will never work.

  Kate Maguire can hardly believe her eyes when she first sees Charles – dressed in a lavender velvet jacket, as out of place in Starwood, Montana as a pig at a tea party.

  But behind the dandy is a man with skill, and a surprisingly good heart.

  The more time Charles spends with Kate, the more he wants to be part of her life. But that will be up to her.

  When the unexplained accidents on her ranch become more dangerous, Charles turns from suitor to protector – even when she wants nothing to do with his protection. He knows he will have to break through the wall of her pride and stubborn self-sufficiency, before he is dragged back into the curse forever.

  One

  SERENA GRAY STOOD next to the ledge holding the six remaining emerald and silver pendants, and studied the men she still had to save.

  Aiden McLeod lounged against the far wall of the cavern, studying her. This time, his expression was neutral, but he usually glared or leered at her, depending on his mood. Kit Burke leaned on his crutch, in the middle of an animated discussion with Charles de Witt. The noble nodded every once in a while, tall, lean and devastating in his grey trousers and lavender velvet jacket. If there was a man who could carry off lavender, it was Charles.

  Robert Macintosh, Ben Rowland, and Rory Turner all waited quietly, but anticipation hummed around them. Another man would have a chance at a new life.

  All he had to do was get the woman chosen by the pendant to fall in love with him. In seven days.

  Serena sighed. Her Aunt Addie had set the bar high for these men.

  “Okay.” Her voice had all of them turning to her, any conversation cut off mid word. “Are you ready to find out who’s next?”

  Each man nodded, and Serena took a deep breath. She closed her hand over the identical emerald she wore, and recited the simple spell that activated the pendants.

  “With these words, I beseech,

  open to me, so I may reach.

  North to South, East to West,

  help me give these men their test.

  Agreement is given, the time is at hand,

  arise, and send each man to the chosen land.”

  At first, nothing happened. The men looked at each other, obviously nervous, and started muttering. Then heat burst through the pendant at her breast. A second later, the pile of silver shifted, one of them finally untangling itself from the rest. It lifted into the air, and headed straight for Charles.

  He closed his eyes, a combination of relief and fear on his face. It changed to pain when the chain lowered itself around his neck.

  He sank to his knees, his hand gripping the pendant.

  “God in heaven,” he whispered. “It hurts more than—”

  He disappeared before he could finish the rest.

  Serena sagged against the wall, letting her fingers slide off her pendant. “Now we wait.”

  Two

  CHARLES STUMBLED, AND managed to throw his hands up before he slammed face first into a wooden wall. He laid his forehead against the warm, splintered wood, and took a shuddering breath. The pendant burned at his breast, and every inch of his body ached, worse than it had when the curse yanked him into his own private hell.

  After a few slow, deep breaths, he eased himself off the wall, and took his first look around. He was in some sort of alley, with cracked dirt under his feet, and low wood buildings surrounding him. Using the wall as a support, he started to head for what looked like the main street—and halted when a feminine voice filtered into the alley. A feminine, furious voice.

  “I told you no, Evan Kransky. Now get your hands off me.”

  Charles pushed off the wall and headed for the street, ignoring his headache, and the way his legs shook. He was never one to allow a woman to be assaulted, not if he was in a position to come to her aid.

  First sight of her halted him. The woman was all of five feet, if that, with an explosion of red hair that surrounded her freckled, heart-shaped face. What made his heart pound were the clothes she wore.

  A white, button-down shirt hugged her torso, tucked into a pair of brown trousers that outlined her hips, and her shapely, long legs.

  The man looming over her was whip thin, but Charles could see the corded muscles in his forearm, revealed by the rolled sleeve of his shirt.

  “Do you have to declare yourself so loudly?” he said. Charles bristled at the anger in his voice. Barely controlled anger. “And in the middle of town?”

  She tried to yank free again, with no success. The exasperation flashing in her clear blue eyes made Charles smile.

  “I do when you ask me the same stupid question.” She lifted her chin and stared up at him, clearly annoyed.

  Oh, he liked her.

  “It’s not stupid. I love you, Katherine—ˮ

  “Stop saying that! And don’t call me Katherine.” She pulled free, obviously catching him by surprise. “The answer will always be no, Evan. As much as I enjoy our friendship, I won’t marry you.”

  Evan’s face turned red, and Charles moved forward. He knew the sign of a man about to lose control, all too well.

  “How dare you embarrass me in front of—ˮ

  “Is there a problem here?” Charles stepped between Evan’s raised fist and the petite fireball who looked ready to tackle him. “I believe the lady said no, my good man.”

  Evan lowered his arm, staring at Charles. No—he was staring at Charles’ jacket.

  Granted, the lavender velvet was a bold choice, but Charles knew he carried it off. More than a few women had told him as much.

  Evan smiled at him. Charles wanted to punch the smirk off his face.

  “Is that—pink? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a real man wear a pink jacket.” He reached out and fingered the sleeve. Charles held his temper, with an effort. “A pink, velvet jacket. Do you actually have man parts, or are they—ˮ

  Charles’ fist cut him off.

  The man flew backward, raising a cloud of dust when he hit the street. Charles shook his hand, his knuckles stinging from the contact. It had been a while since his last fight, and he knew he would pay for this later.


  “Are you all right, Evan?” The redhead stood over him, arms crossed.

  “That dandy punched me.” He rubbed his jaw, staring at Charles.

  “Yes, he did.” She glanced over her shoulder, but instead of the gratitude Charles expected, she looked—angry. No—she looked furious. “Go home, Evan. We’ll finish this later.”

  He stood, still glaring at Charles. “I’m not leaving until we—ˮ

  “Later, Evan.” Her tone would have frozen fire.

  He grumbled under his breath, then walked away. The redhead watched after him, hands on her hips. “I didn’t ask for your help, British.”

  “I find that most women need assistance when they are accosted, whether they ask for it or not.”

  She spun, those blue eyes flashing as she stalked over to him. She had to stand on tiptoe even to reach his chin.

  “I’m not one of your frail, helpless society women. I can take care of myself, and I was doing just fine before you jumped in and decided to play hero.” She pushed wild waves off her cheek. Charles bit back a smile when they sprang back, caressing her freckled skin. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in New York, toasting with the wealthy snobs?”

  “You do seem to have a low opinion of anyone who happens to have money.”

  “I’ve met enough to know that most of them aren’t worth the air they use.” She glanced at his jacket, one eyebrow raised. “You won’t get far wearing that. Though you do have a powerful swing, for a—ˮ

  “Wealthy snob?”

  For the first time, she smiled. Charles nearly stumbled at the effect. That smile lit her face, sparkled in her eyes.

  “Damn,” she said. She didn’t sound happy.

  “Did I offend you again?”

  “No.” She let out a sigh and took his hand. “You just charmed me. Let’s get you out of this jacket before you have to fight every other man you cross paths with.”

  “I fear I do not—ˮ He checked his pockets to be certain before he continued, and found the small roll of notes he always kept for emergencies. “I have little money. And I doubt your local merchants would take foreign bank notes.”

  “Can you do anything besides look pretty in your clothes?” She sighed again. Charles found it amusing. A woman had never amused him as she did, or left him as stunned.

  He studied his surroundings. It took no imagination to come to the conclusion that he had acquired Ben’s pendant. This town looked as rough and wild as those described in the penny dreadfuls his nephew Mason loved so dearly.

  “I know horses,” he said. He had been riding them before he could walk. “May I assume that you are offering me a position, Miss...?”

  “Kate Maguire.” She held out her hand, not to be kissed, but as a man would. Charles shook it, smiling as he did so. “I own a ranch outside town, and if you’re as good as you seem to think, I could use a hand with the horses.”

  Grief flashed in those clear blue eyes, dulling their fire. Charles wanted to wipe away that grief. His need to do so had him taking a step back.

  “I would like the chance to prove myself.”

  She smiled at him, the grief easing. “You never answered my question. What are you doing here?”

  “I am newly arrived. Do you happen to have the name of this fine town?”

  She laughed, her blue eyes dancing with humor. “This fine town isn’t even on any map. You’re standing in front of the most popular whorehouse in the town of Starwood, Montana.”

  She crossed her arms, obviously waiting for him to make some derogatory remark.

  Instead, he smiled at her. “Does that mean there is more than one?”

  Her laughter sent a wave of heat through him. And he knew—this petite firecracker of a woman was the one chosen for him by the pendant.

  She could not have been less his type.

  “The mayor doesn’t like to brag, but he has four. This one,” she pointed at the building behind him, “happens to be the biggest.”

  “And that is what makes it the most popular?”

  “More rooms, more business.” She said it with a straight face.

  Charles smiled again. He could hardly help himself; she spoke with the openness and fire of a man, but had the pretty face and the trim curves of a woman. Openly displayed for all to see. He was not all that certain what he thought of such a display.

  “I am going to assume you are not part of that bustling business,” he said.

  She tilted her head to one side. “I should be insulted, but I’m oddly flattered. Must be the accent.”

  “Are there other qualifications for this position?”

  “You need to be able to ride a horse, not be afraid of cattle, and basically, be breathing.”

  Charles raised an eyebrow. “I sit a horse quite well, thank you. And I do happen to be breathing.”

  Her smile made him want to cradle her face, to find out if her skin was as soft as it looked. Her voice jerked him out of the pleasant image. “And you’re in Starwood because...”

  “I am ready for a new life.” That was no lie. “I find myself in need of funds, and your offer sounds as if it might suit me.”

  She studied him, a frown marring her forehead. She looked as if she were already regretting her offer. Had he said something to offend her? He did that quite often, without realizing it.

  “The offer is this, if you can accept it—you work for me. You take orders from me. Period. Does that sit well with you?”

  In answer, he held out his hand. “I believe introductions are in order. I am Charles de Witt.” He left out his title, aware that it would mean nothing here in the colonies. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Maguire.”

  She took his hand, and he was surprised by the calluses on her palm. “Kate will do. We don’t stand on ceremony here, Charlie.”

  He nearly shuddered. “Charles.”

  “Got it.” She started walking down the street, and grinned at him over her shoulder. “Charlie.”

  With a sigh, he followed her, stepping up to a raised boardwalk.

  He had a better view of the town from here. It was more prosperous than his first view of it led him to presume, the wood buildings neat and freshly painted. Even the brothels looked well maintained.

  And it seemed he had just signed on as a ranch hand. To work for a woman.

  Adriana must be laughing in her grave.

  Kate stopped halfway down the boardwalk and turned around. “Does it meet with your approval, Charlie?” She moved back to him. “You’ll be spending a good part of your time in town. I have horses in the stable here, to loan out to the locals who don’t want to own one, or can’t afford to.”

  “So, I will be taking care of horses in two locations?”

  “If you pass muster. And if I still have the ranch in another month,” she muttered, almost too quiet for Charles to hear.

  But he did.

  She pushed aside whatever thoughts put such concern in her eyes, and gave him a smile. “We need to get you outfitted. That pretty jacket will barely get you to the end of the street.”

  Charles knew he would be ribbed by the local cowboys. They had no sense of high style, judging from what he had seen. The ribbing started three steps down the boardwalk.

  “Hey, pretty boy—where’d you get the pink coat? It’d look great on little Kate.” The man laughed so hard, he doubled over with it.

  “You’re hilarious, Nat.” Kate marched up to the huge man, and Charles braced himself. “You know pink clashes with my hair.”

  He burst out laughing again, and patted Kate on the back. The pat nearly pitched her off the boardwalk.

  She recovered, smiling at him, then gestured for Charles to keep going.

  Charles ignored the comments and insults flung after him, as he had nearly every day of his life. As a noble, he was meant to rise above it. His training came in handy now.

  He followed Kate into a crowded shop. Once inside, he recognized it. The village near h
is country estate in Kent had such a shop, one that sold a bit of everything, suitable for the local population.

  Kate moved to the long front counter, and spoke to the man standing behind it. “I have a potential new hand, Myron, and as you can see,” she waved at Charles. “Charlie is not suitably dressed for the trail.”

  “Charles,” he said. He had a feeling it was a futile effort.

  Kate confirmed it. “Charlie is my replacement for Ben, who up and quit to join a cattle drive. I think it was over a woman.”

  “He did chase after the pretty ones,” Myron said. “Even you, Kate.”

  The information shocked Charles. He was linked to a woman who had been involved with Ben.

  You are a spiteful witch, Adriana.

  Kate’s voice pulled him back to the conversation. “This should cover what Charlie needs.” She laid a small bag on the counter, the contents clicking softly.

  Myron tucked the bag in his trouser pocket, then stepped around the counter and studied Charles, one hand rubbing his chin. “I believe I have everything you need, in the back. Give me a minute.”

  He moved behind the counter, and disappeared through the open doorway. From here, Charles could hear him shuffling through inventory, obviously finding the perfect, prosaic, cowboy outfit. Charles resigned himself to wearing rough fabric and uncomfortable shoes.

  The man returned, holding a pile of clothing. He pulled the first item off the top. “I assume you wanted him to have trousers.”

  Kate nodded. “One pair to wear, one pair to wash.” She winked at Charles. He found himself amused by her, and also attracted to her. The more time he spent with her, the more refined she seemed. He preferred his women refined. “I’d also like a second shirt,” she looked down at his feet, “boots, if you have them, an extra pair of socks, and a hat.”

  Myron shoved the pile at Charles. “Be right back.”

  Charles looked at the clothing in his arms, then at Kate. “Shall I try these on?”

  “That’s the idea, Charlie.”

  “Charles,” he said. It was almost automatic now.