Would-Be Mistletoe Wife. Christine Johnson

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Would-Be Mistletoe Wife - Christine  Johnson Mills & Boon Love Inspired Historical

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dune.”

      She then held up her magnifying glass and turned to the girls, who were huddled together, many of them slack-jawed and more than one starry-eyed. “Ladies!”

      The group shot to attention and pulled out their magnifying glasses.

      “We will examine the flowers of the tall wormwood first,” Louise instructed. “Use your glasses to determine if it is in bloom or has gone to seed and then draw a likeness in your field notebook.” She held up her well-worn notebook that contained sketches and notes on each species she encountered.

      Not one girl moved.

      “Come now, don’t be afraid.” Louise motioned in the direction of the plant and then turned toward it only to find herself looking at the buttons of the man’s shirt not one foot from her nose. “Oh, you’re still here.”

      “And you’re still trespassing.”

      “As I said, we will be done shortly and then will vacate the property. If you have a problem with that, then I suggest you bring it up with Mr. Blackthorn.” She ducked around the man and began demonstrating the use of the magnifying glass.

      Priscilla marched past the man, but not without casting a flirtatious look his way. Since she led, the others followed, with Dinah dragging her feet in the rear. Her gaze lingered on the man, as if he was an oddity. Perhaps one could say he was, for Louise had never seen so tall a man, especially one who looked so perturbed.

      “Mrs. Smythe.”

      “Sir?” she answered. “I have introduced myself, but it seems you have neglected to do likewise.”

      This time his color heightened, bringing giggles from the girls.

      “Mr. Hammond. Mr. Jesse Hammond, Assistant Lighthouse Keeper.”

      Each word came out so stiffly that a laugh bubbled to her lips. “Are you always so formal?”

      He looked affronted. “I am precise, Mrs. Smythe, to the letter of the law, which I have sworn to uphold.”

      “Really, Mr. Hammond, this is getting tedious. As I said, Mr. Blackthorn will have no objection to us hiking upon the dune to further our education. I promise we will not go near any of the buildings. You are quite safe.”

      His color heightened. “I am not concerned about my safety, madam.” He sniffed the air.

      Louise sniffed too. Something was burning.

      “Fire,” Mr. Jesse Hammond said even as he scanned the horizon in all directions.

      Louise looked back at her students only to discover a dried leaf aflame at Dinah’s feet. “Dinah!”

      The girl shrieked and jumped, thankfully in the right direction. The other girls followed suit.

      “Put it out, Mr. Hammond,” Priscilla pleaded with several well-timed bats of her eyelids.

      Before the man could issue yet another reprimand, Louise strode over, lifted her skirts slightly and stomped on the leaf until the flame was extinguished.

      “There,” she noted, spinning to face Mr. Hammond. “The problem is solved.”

      “This time, but it demonstrates why you shouldn’t be here.”

      My, that man could aggravate! Louise focused on Dinah. “How did this happen?”

      The girl had gone pale as snow. “I—I was just lookin’ at things like you told us to do.”

      “Looking?”

      “Aye.” Dinah demonstrated holding out her glass.

      “Your magnifying glass!” Louise turned so she stood in the same direction Dinah had been standing when the leaf caught fire. She held out her own magnifying glass. Sure enough, the sun’s rays reflected and concentrated on the surface in a bright dot. “That’s what happened. The sun must have reflected off the glass at just the right angle to set the leaf ablaze.”

      “Carelessness,” Jesse Hammond stated. “Unchecked, it could have damaged one of the outbuildings or even spread toward town.”

      Louise was about to counter that statement with the obvious truth that a sea of dry sand lay between the burnt leaf and any building, but the girls had begun murmuring amongst themselves again.

      Priscilla smiled coyly at Mr. Hammond. “What would we have done without your assistance, Mr. Hammond? We are ever so grateful.”

      Louise gritted her teeth. Pointing out that she had put out the fire would not endear her to Priscilla or Mr. Hammond. Since the girls’ attention was lost, nothing more could be learned today.

      “Very well, ladies, we shall shorten our study today.”

      That drew a grudging nod from the man. “I will hold you to that, Mrs. Smythe.”

      “And I will speak with Mr. Blackthorn at first opportunity.”

      He nodded again. “Please excuse me, ma’am. Ladies.” He then strode off toward the lighthouse without a single backward glance.

      Louise didn’t know what she’d expected. The warmth of his hand and moment of compassion had vanished under the weight of his adherence to regulation. Jesse Hammond was a most unreasonable man.

      “Isn’t he about the most handsome man you ever saw?” Linore sighed.

      “Too tall,” Priscilla noted, as if she hadn’t done her best to attract his attention.

      Certainly he had towered over Louise. Now that he was gone, her limbs set to trembling. The sheer force of the man brought back terrible fear. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, telling herself to forget the past. Jesse Hammond was not her late husband. Other than stature, they likely shared nothing else. Moreover, she had no connection to this man. She need have no dealings with him.

      In the future she would avoid any possibility of crossing Jesse Hammond’s path.

      * * *

      Jesse had never been so skillfully outmaneuvered, especially by a tiny slip of a woman. He could appreciate that she’d stomped out the burning leaf rather than cry out like the girls, but that sensible act had only reminded him of his failure. He hadn’t leapt into action—not six years ago and not now.

      Moreover, Louise Smythe had managed to counter every argument he put forth. She was probably right that the keeper wouldn’t mind. Blackthorn didn’t follow every regulation exactly as written. Sometimes, he didn’t follow them at all. That was a problem. A keeper was responsible for lives.

      The smallest missed detail could lead to disaster, as Jesse well knew from that horrible night on the Sultana. The steamboat had left Vicksburg and then Memphis severely overloaded with soldiers eager to return home. They’d ignored the crowded conditions and sagging decks. After all, they’d endured the horrors of the prisoner of war camps. What was a little temporary discomfort when they soon would be home? Then came the explosion.

      The memory still shook him from deep

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