A Heart for the Taking by Shirlee Busbee Read Free Book Online Page A

was morelike Sam and less like Constance. If she wasn’t, it was going to be a
very
long visit.
    They had almost reached the gangplank and were just starting down, when there was a sudden gasp from Constance and she stopped dead in her tracks. Her face almost ugly with displeasure, she grasped Jonathan’s arm even tighter and hissed, “What is
he
doing here?”
    Fancy’s gaze followed the direction of Constance’s look, and her heart gave another of those funny little leaps. The frontiersman who had stared so boldly at her just a short while ago was standing at the base of the gangplank, a cool smile tugging at the corners of his long mouth. Unable to help herself, she whispered to Jonathan, “Who
is
that man?”
    An unpleasant expression on his handsome face, Jonathan said grimly, “Why, only the bastard of the family. Chance. Chance Walker.”

Chapter Two

    S am Walker heard Jonathan’s comment, and sending his half-brother a stern look over his shoulder, he said quietly, “Have you been away so long in England that you have forgotten that this is a New World and a man should be allowed to put his beginnings behind him? Because of an unfortunate set of circumstances—none, I might add, of his own making—is Chance to be forever branded?”
    Jonathan stiffened at the note of reprimand in Sam’s voice and muttered, “Have
you
forgotten that he cheated us out of thousands of acres?”
    Sam’s eyes narrowed. “No,” he said softly, “I have not forgotten precisely how it was that Chance came to own that particular tract of our land. And now, I think we have said enough in front of our charming guests.” He smiled down at Ellen’s wide-eyed expression. “Forgive us! You have stumbled across a long-standing family disagreement and we have been rude enough to air it in front of you. Believe me, we are not always so impolite.”
    The moment was smoothed over, but the exchange between the brothers left Fancy with the decided impression that Chance Walker was not someone she would care to know any better. It also left all sorts of questions floatingaround in her head. What were the circumstances of his birth, and how
had
Chance Walker obtained that land? And why, if he was the blackguard that Jonathan indicated, did his brother seem to defend him? Remembering the contemptuous way Chance Walker had stared up at her earlier, Fancy decided that in this case, Jonathan probably had the correct understanding of the man. Chance Walker was obviously
not
a gentleman.
    As they continued down the gangplank, the closer they came to the tall, buckskin-clad figure standing so arrogantly on the wharf, Fancy found herself tensing, and unconsciously she clung more tightly to Jonathan’s arm. She was suddenly glad that she wasn’t alone and that they were in a public place with several people nearby.
    Why she felt that way, she couldn’t have said, but there was something in the way Chance Walker was looking at her, some expression in those hooded eyes, that warned her he was no more impressed by her than she had been by him. Which, of course, naturally put her on her mettle and put an unusually haughty expression on her pretty face and had her little tip-tilted nose firmly in the air.
    Avoiding even looking in the direction of the waiting figure at the base of the gangplank, she began to speak with great animation to Jonathan, talking airily about some ball they had attended together in London. She didn’t even know what she was babbling on about, and despite her apparent lively conversation with Jonathan, she was unbearably aware of the other man. She could feel his gaze like a searing blade, boring into her.
    They finally reached the wharf, where Sam Walker greeted Chance with a warm smile. “Good morning, Chance, I didn’t expect to see you here in Richmond. The last I heard of you from Morely, you were somewhere out in the wilderness trading with the Indians. Was it a profitable trip, my boy?”
    At thirty-four years of