His Mountain Miss. Karen Kirst
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A Battle of Wills
New Orleans aristocrat Lucian Beaumont wants only to sell his estranged grandfather’s property and escape the backwoods of Gatlinburg, Tennessee. But a stipulation in the will brings him head-to-head with a local beauty. Megan O’Malley and the town must have access to the house. For the first time in his life the commanding Lucian finds himself at an impasse.
Clearly the worldly gentleman doesn’t fit in Megan’s quaint Smoky Mountain town. But as she glimpses the man beneath the hardened veneer, she believes Lucian is here for a purpose. To heal his soul. And maybe, with Megan’s help, to heal his heart.
Lucian trusted no one.
If not for his wealth and name, they’d all be gone in a second. He’d learned that the hard way.
What about Megan? The beauty seemed to radiate goodness. He could almost believe she truly cared about helping this town. Was it real? Or a clever act designed to make him lower his guard?
He resented this present circumstance that was beyond his control. As empty as his life in New Orleans had become, it was familiar.
Frustration surged. If not for this young lady, he would’ve already put the house up for sale and be out of this backwoods town.
“Let me make myself clear, Miss O’Malley. I plan to do everything possible to find a way around that stipulation.”
Anger flashed in her eyes. “And let me assure you, Mr. Beaumont, I will do everything I can to fight you.”
He blew out an aggravated breath. He was beginning to wish he’d never heard of Gatlinburg, Tennessee. And Miss Megan O’Malley.
KAREN KIRST
was born and raised in East Tennessee near the Great Smoky Mountains. A lifelong lover of books, it wasn’t until after college that she had the grand idea to write one herself. Now she divides her time between being a wife, homeschooling mom and romance writer. Her favorite pastimes are reading, visiting tearooms and watching romantic comedies.
His Mountain Miss
Karen Kirst
I will turn their mourning into gladness;
I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow.
—Jeremiah 31:13
To my parents-in-law, Pavel and Julie Turon, who have brought such joy into my life.
I’m blessed to know you both. I love you!
A big thank-you to my editor, Emily Rodmell, for all her hard work and dedication.
This series wouldn’t be possible without you!
Contents
Chapter One
May 1881
Gatlinburg, Tennessee
“Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?”
Jolted out of her concentration, Megan O’Malley dropped the books she was holding, and they thumped to the gleaming wood floor. She twisted around to face the unexpected visitor whose voice she didn’t recognize. Odd, she hadn’t heard the doorbell. Mrs. Calhoun normally announced company.
The stranger standing in the parlor’s wide entryway was definitely not a local. Even dressed in their Sunday best, the men of Gatlinburg couldn’t come close to imitating this man’s elegance. Glossy black Hessian boots encased his feet and calves. Muscular thighs stretched the dove-gray trousers he wore taut, and underneath his black frock coat, the silver-and-black paisley brocade vest hugged a firm chest. The snowy white, expertly arranged cravat at his throat resembled a work of art.
Nothing was out of place. No lint on his coat. Not a single speck of dust dared cling to the mirrorlike surface of his boots...which was why his hair seemed to her untamed. It was glorious hair, really, thick and lustrous and wavy, the dark brown layers kissing his forehead in a manner that must irk him so.
His eyes, she noticed at last, were watching her with marked suspicion. He did not look pleased.
His black gaze raked her from head to toe and back up again, his frown deepening at the sight of the flower circlet adorning her loose curls. Megan experienced a spurt of self-consciousness. In preparation for the children’s story time, she’d dressed the part of a princess, complete with a flowing white gown and fingerless lace gloves.
Unsettled, she clasped her hands behind her back and adopted what she hoped was a casual smile. “Hello, I’m Megan O’Malley. You must be new in town. Is there something I can help you with?”
He didn’t deign to answer. Instead, he surveyed the airy room as he stalked towards her, circumventing the wingbacked chairs arranged in a semicircle about a plush Oriental rug. Fit and athletic, he exuded an air of