The Rocky Mountain Heiress Collection by Kathleen Y' Barbo Read Free Book Online

in his pocket. He touched it, then once again placed it atop the chessboard.
    “What do you want from me after all these years, old man?” he whispered.
    Daniel held the envelope up to the light, then turned and extinguished the lamp. Alone in the darkness, he crumpled the letter and stuffed it into his pocket, then walked upstairs to his room, feeling older than the person who penned the words he dreaded reading.
    He settled heavily into the old leather chair by the fire; the chair Georgiana had only tolerated because it was his favorite. Closing his eyes, Daniel let the image of a golden-haired woman heavy with child, her skirts lifted just above the gurgling water of a mountain-fed stream, sneak into his mind. With it came the rage.
    “Papa?”
    Daniel opened his eyes to find Charlotte peering around the door. “You should be sleeping, Buttercup.”
    Bare feet pattered across the floor, and Charlotte launched herself into the chair with him. He caught the imp and tucked her into his lap, the top of her head nestled beneath his chin.
    Legs that had grown long and coltish tangled around his, evoking memories of Charlotte at five. Newly arrived and shy, she’d kept her distance, preferring her mother to the man she refused to call Papa.
    Where had the time gone? In the blink of an eye, the reticent five-year-old had stolen his heart and, upon her mother’s death, filled the abyss of grief with rays of brilliant green-eyed sunshine. Contemplating where he would be without Charlotte was impossible.
    “My new nanny is coming soon, isn’t she?”
    Daniel hauled his mind back to the present and thought carefully before answering. “Yes, the new Miss McTaggart’s to arrive in two days, I believe.”
    “I was thinking, Papa.” She peered up at him with her mother’s eyes. “Maybe I don’t need a nanny. I’ll be eleven soon. That’s practically grown-up. I think I can manage just fine.”
    “Eleven is eleven, Buttercup. Twenty, now that’s grown-up.” He gathered her back into his arms and held her, as outside, the night sounds rose. “And for the record, you only just turned ten.”
    Charlotte yawned. “Can I fall asleep here?”
    “Of course.” His heart lurched again. How many more years did he have before his little girl cared less for her papa than she did for her friends or, worse yet, gentleman callers?
    The only sounds came from outside the open window. He patted her curls, the one visible feature she’d inherited from the Becks, and closed his eyes.
    “Papa?”
    “Shh.”
    He let out a sigh he hoped his daughter would take as exasperation. In truth, it spoke of pure contentment. Was there anything better than sitting in a comfortable chair on a cool evening with a cherub in your arms?
    If only things could be managed in his absence, but Daniel knew running a business in Leadville meant he must attend to things there. Nothing was more difficult than leaving his daughter, especially now that her protests had become more vocal. His absences might perturb her now, but she was just a child. Someday she would know that his work was done with only her in mind.
    Until that time, she needed a firm hand and a feminine influence. Hopefully the new Nanny McTaggart would provide that. Her predecessor had only been gone a month, and already he saw signs that what little the dear woman had managed to do in the way of civilizing Charlotte was coming undone. Just yesterday, Hiram had come to him with the distressing story that he thought he’d seen Charlotte among a group of youthful troublemakers tipping the spittoon in a nearby saloon, then pocketing money off the card tables in the ensuing melee. Then there was the neighbor who’d come to Tova, complaining of a pie with half its filling missing. Only Charlotte had been seen in the vicinity.
    He’d expressed doubt to Tova about the girl’s involvement, but in his heart Daniel wondered. She was a bit high-spirited. Adventurous, even. But petty crime? Not his