True Devotion. Marta Perry
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“Why didn’t you tell us the truth about who you are, Mrs. Laine?”
He knew.
Susannah took a breath, trying to think, trying to organize some sort of response. What could she possibly say to Nathan that would make sense of her actions?
“I’m sorry about your husband’s death,” Nathan said after a moment. “The accident was a terrible thing.” His eyes were filled with sympathy. “But it wasn’t necessary to hide your identity from us. We wouldn’t intrude on your grief.” Nathan’s deep voice had gone very soft. He put his hand on her shoulder.
Warmth. Comfort. Hot tears stung her eyes. Susannah had an almost uncontrollable urge to step forward, lean against his strong shoulder and let her tears soak his shirt.
She took a deep breath and nodded, trying to swallow tears.
She couldn’t give in to that longing to lean on him. She couldn’t.
MARTA PERRY
has written everything from Sunday school curriculum to travel articles to magazine stories in twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her writing home in the stories she writes for Love Inspired.
Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her beautiful grandchildren, traveling or relaxing with a good book. She loves hearing from readers and will be glad to send a signed bookplate on request. She can be reached c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.
True Devotion
Marta Perry
MILLS & BOON
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Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.
—I John 4:7
This story is dedicated to my dear sister, Patricia,
her husband, Ed, and her beautiful family,
with much love.
And, as always, to Brian.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
Most people wouldn’t throw a pregnant woman out into the cold. But the October sun was warm, and Nathan Sloane wasn’t most people. The discovery that his unwanted renter was pregnant just made him more eager to be rid of her.
Nathan stood on the porch of the lakeside cottage, realizing he’d been staring for too long at the auburn-haired woman who’d opened the door to him. He glanced at the registration card in his hand.
“Ms. Morgan?”
She hesitated momentarily. “Yes.”
He tried to smile, but the tension that rode him probably made it look more like a grimace. “I’m Nathan Sloane. My father, Daniel, owns Sloane Lodge.”
She gave a brief nod, edging the door toward him slightly, as if ready to close it in his face. “Is something wrong, Mr. Sloane?”
“I’m afraid so.” Besides the fact that just being near the cottage rubbed his nerves raw. “My stepsister made an error when she rented the cottage to you.”
The woman opened the door a bit wider, letting the autumn sunlight hit her face. It turned her hair to bronze and caught the gold flecks in eyes as deeply green as the hemlocks on the hillside across the lake.
It also showed the purple circles under those eyes, marring her fair skin. She looked like someone who’d been fighting a losing battle with insomnia.
“I don’t understand,” she said, frowning as if he’d just told her that her credit card had been rejected. “What sort of an error?”
Again he tried the smile. “We’re getting ready to winterize the cottages. In fact, my father will be closing the lodge for the season before long.” He hoped. “So you see, I’ll have to ask you to make other arrangements.”
“The person who checked me in earlier didn’t say anything about that.” She didn’t look particularly impressed by the explanation he’d rehearsed.
He spared an irritated thought for his stepsister. “Apparently Jennifer didn’t understand. The cottage is not available to rent at all. And certainly not for an entire month at this time of the year.”
Her lips tightened. “That’s impossible. I’ve already rented it.”
He didn’t seem to be getting very far. “Perhaps you’d like to move into the main lodge for a few days until you find something else. Or we’d be glad to call around for alternative accommodations for you.”
The woman’s fingers were white where they clutched the edge of the door. She released it abruptly. “You’d better come inside.”
She walked away from the door, giving him no choice but to follow her. If he clenched his jaw any tighter, it would shatter.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience…” he began.
“It’s more than inconvenient.”
The woman stood turned away from him, staring out the windows of the small living room that fronted on the lake. She was so slender that from this angle she didn’t even appear to be expecting. Irrationally, he found that made it easier to deal with her.
“I do apologize.” He tried to express a warmth he didn’t feel.
Get the woman out—that was what he had to do right now. No others were rented. Then he could shut the cottages and persuade his father to close the lodge early for the winter. Maybe by spring he’d have been able to convince his stubborn father that a man who’d narrowly survived one heart attack shouldn’t court another by refusing to retire.
Ms. Morgan turned toward him, and for a moment her figure was silhouetted against the windows, her hands pressed against her stomach.
The