The Nanny

“My kiss lacked something?”

His eyes widened. “You think my kiss lacked something?”

A little crease appeared in her forehead as she considered his question. “Well…yes.”

He sat up in the chair. “I suppose you’ve been kissed so many times that you instantly know a good kiss from a bad kiss?”

“No, I haven’t been kissed that many times, at all, if it’s any of your business,” she told him. “But the kiss definitely lacked…passion. Yes, that’s it. Passion.”

“My kisses have plenty of passion, I’ll have you know.”

Annie shrugged. “Perhaps you’re just out of practice?”

Well, he couldn’t argue with that. Still, it irritated him to no end.

“So, you’re sorry you kissed me?” she asked.

Josh’s attention turned back to Annie as she gazed at him, and instantly he knew he wasn’t sorry he’d kissed her. Not sorry at all….

Praise for Judith Stacy’s recent works

The Blushing Bride

“…lovable characters that grab your heartstrings…a fun read all the way.”

—Rendezvous

The Dreammaker

“…a delightful story of the triumph of love.”

—Rendezvous

The Heart of a Hero

“Judith Stacy is a fine writer with both polished style and heartwarming sensitivity.”

—Bestselling author Pamela Morsi

THE NANNY

Harlequin Historical #561

#559 THE OVERLORD’S BRIDE

Margaret Moore

#560 CIMARRON ROSE

Nicole Foster

#562 TAMING THE DUKE

Jackie Manning

The Nanny

Judith Stacy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Available from Harlequin Historicals and JUDITH STACY

Outlaw Love #360

The Marriage Mishap #382

The Heart of a Hero #444

The Dreammaker #486

Written in the Heart #500

The Blushing Bride #521

One Christmas Wish #531 “Christmas Wishes”

The Last Bride in Texas #541

The Nanny #561

To Margaret Marbury, my editor,

for your hard work and support.

To Judy, Stacy and David

for always, always, always being there.

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

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter One

Wisconsin

Summer, 1840

“Mind your own business.”

Annie Martin mumbled the words to herself, forcing her attention on the sprouting weeds stretched out in front of her. She was lucky to have this job tending the gardens at the home of the wealthiest man in the settlement. No, more than lucky, Annie reminded herself. Darned lucky. Even if she was seeing weeds in her sleep.

Even if she could hardly keep her mind on her own business and her opinions to herself.

The rich earth turned over beneath her hoe as Annie worked her way down the row of tomato plants. Her gloves, trousers and shirt were a little big—better suited for a man. Her wide brimmed straw hat protected her face from the sun. But nothing kept the sound from assaulting her ears.

The baby.

Annie’s gaze drifted to the rear of the big white house that belonged to Josh Ingalls, her employer. Windows stood open, letting the gentle breeze cool the interior. Curtains billowed. And the heart-wrenching cries of the baby floated out.

“Mind your own business,” Annie mumbled again, turning her back to the house.

She’d worked here only three days, and for the last two she’d heard the baby cry endlessly. It took all Annie’s strength to keep from marching up to the house and demanding to know why no one was caring for the child, to keep from pushing her way inside and tending to the little thing herself.

But she didn’t dare. She needed this job. Desperately. If she lost it, who in the settlement would hire her? Already people were talking. Annie, her widowed mother and two sisters had moved here only weeks ago; gossip was spreading.

Annie gritted her teeth and turned back to her chore. If Josh Ingalls wanted to run his home this way, allow his baby to cry, it was his business. Certainly not hers. And certainly not her place to criticize.

She stopped suddenly and swept a trickle of sweat from her temple. Maybe Mr. Ingalls didn’t know. He spent his days, sunup to sundown—and then some—out in his fields, overseeing the work. At least, that’s what she’d heard. Most everyone Annie had met was more than anxious to talk about the elusive Josh Ingalls.

He was handsome, they’d said. Annie couldn’t confirm or deny that opinion. She had yet to lay eyes on the man.

Wealthy, they’d also said. From the looks of the fine home, the tended grounds, the orchards, gardens, and hundreds of acres of crops, Annie didn’t doubt it.

But the juiciest piece of gossip was about his marital status. A widower, they’d said. His wife dead for months now.

Which meant the handsome, wealthy Josh Ingalls was available.

Annie snorted and attacked the weeds with renewed vigor as she imagined all the young, single women in the settlement dressed in their finery, parading in front of him, vying for his attention. While at nineteen years old she was certainly the right age, and could have been just as attractive as any other girl, Annie wasn’t interested. She was more comfortable in trousers than fancy dresses, layers of petticoats, corsets and hoops.

With her gloved hand, Annie tucked away a stray lock of her blond hair. She wasn’t beautiful. She was tall—too tall for a woman, with not near enough curves, her mother often lamented. But Annie contented herself with knowing that her looks made her passably acceptable. No one gasped and turned away at the sight of her, small dogs didn’t bark and children didn’t cry out with fright.

Unlike most all the other young women in the settlement, Annie didn’t think Josh Ingalls was much of a catch, despite his supposed good looks and wealth. Not considering the passel of children that came with him.

Three, besides the baby. Annie had seen them running wild over the farm. Everyone said they were a handful. Annie believed that rumor without question.

She’d seen the children occasionally. Two girls, ages eight and four, she guessed, with a boy sandwiched between, running through the corn rows, chasing the chickens, always creating mischief. Small wonder Mr. Ingalls couldn’t keep a nanny.

All the children needed was a firm hand, Annie decided as she worked. A firm hand and a—

“Mind your own business,” she muttered again. “Mind your own business before you—oh!”

Annie grabbed her bottom. Something had stung her on the backside. A wasp? A bee, maybe?

Giggles drifted across the garden. She whirled and saw the three Ingalls children peeking at her through the cornstalks. Peeking, laughing, pointing—and holding a slingshot.

“You shot me!” she exclaimed.

The boy raised the slingshot, taking aim at her again. Anger zipped through Annie. She threw down her hoe, yanked off her gloves and took off after them. The children—completely taken by surprise—squealed and raced away.

They were small and quick, but Annie was mad. She chased them down the rows until they broke free into the meadow. Easily she passed the youngest child, left behind by the older two. Arms and legs churning, Annie pursued them down the hill to the edge of the woods.

She caught them both by the backs of their shirts and yanked them to a stop. The girl screamed. The boy tried to dart away, but Annie scooped him up under her arm and grabbed the girl’s wrist.

“Be still!” Annie commanded.

They didn’t, of course. A new cry joined their wails. Annie saw the youngest girl standing nearby, unsure of what to do.

“Run, Cassie, run!” the oldest girl shouted. “Run and hide!”

“Come over here!” Annie told her.

“No! Don’t!” the boy called, squirming. “Run away! Run fast!”

Annie gave him a shake. “Be still! All of you!”

The children stared up at her, their eyes wide and their mouths open. This, surely, was not the response they’d expected when they’d picked Annie for slingshot target practice. They quieted.

“All right, that’s better. Now, come here.” Annie led the oldest girl to the shade of the trees. “Sit.” When she did, Annie dropped the boy beside her. The youngest girl darted to her brother and sister and squeezed between them.

Annie stood over the three children, catching her breath. All had brown eyes and dark hair, the girls with long braids, the boy with bangs that would need trimming soon. Dirt smudged their faces. The girls’ dresses were soiled; the boy’s skinny knee showed through a rip in his trousers.

Grimy, disheveled, unkempt. Still, they were beautiful children. It would have been hard to be angry at them if Annie’s backside didn’t hurt so much.

She bent down and yanked the slingshot from the boy’s hand. “What’s your name?”

His bottom lip poked out. “Drew.”

“This is dangerous,” Annie said, shaking the slingshot at him. “It’s not a play toy. Why did you shoot me with it?”

He shrugged his little shoulders and looked away. “I don’t know.”

Annie turned to the oldest girl. “What’s your name?”

“Ginny,” she told her, looking her straight in the eye. “And we did it because we wanted to. That’s why. Because we wanted to.”

“Well, you can’t do that,” Annie declared.

Little Cassie whimpered and snuggled closer to Ginny, ducking her head.

“Don’t yell,” Ginny told Annie as she looped her arm around her little sister. “Cassie gets scared when people yell.”

Annie shoved the slingshot into her back pocket, beginning to feel like a brute towering over the children. Seated quietly on the ground, gazing up at her attentively, they looked like innocent little angels. Annie’s anger faded.

“Well, all right, no real harm done, I suppose,” she said. “But you’re not to shoot at any living thing ever again. Not people, animals or birds. Nothing. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they chimed together.

“Good. Now—”

Hoofbeats pounded the ground behind her. Seeing the approaching rider, all three children scrambled to their feet. Cassie squealed and climbed straight up Annie’s leg into her arms. Annie spun around, pulling Ginny and Drew behind her, her heart racing. She was sure, from the looks on the children’s faces, that they were all about to be murdered.

The lone rider pulled his horse to a stop. The stallion tossed its head and pawed the ground.

“What’s going on here?” the man demanded.

Annie gulped. Good Lord, the man was huge—tall, with broad shoulders and a big chest. Seated atop the horse, he seemed to tower over them. Brown hair touched his collar. Dark eyes glared at her from beneath the brim of his hat.

“Well?” he demanded again. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”

Cassie squeezed Annie’s neck tighter. The other two children crowded closer behind her. Annie’s own fear turned to anger.

“I might ask you the same,” Annie declared, glaring up at him. “What business is it of yours?”

“I know,” Cassie whispered in her ear.

The man’s frown deepened.

Annie pushed her chin higher. “You’ve no business charging up like that, frightening the children. Who do you think you are?”

“I know,” Cassie said. “He’s our papa.”

Chapter Two

“He’s your…?”

“Papa,” Cassie said again.

Annie looked down at Ginny and Drew, who were peeking around her. They nodded.

She dared turn to the man again, withering beneath his harsh gaze. “You’re their…father?”

“I am.”

“Then that would make you…”

“Josh Ingalls.”

“Oh, dear.” Josh Ingalls. Her employer.

“What’s your name?” Josh demanded.

She gulped. “Annie. Annie Martin. I work here, tending the gardens.”

He looked at her long and hard. “I asked you what’s going on here.”

Cassie buried her face in Annie’s neck, holding on tighter. Ginny and Drew squeezed closer.

Certainly the man should know what his children had been up to. Shooting a person with a slingshot deserved punishment of some sort. But with the children cowering around her, Annie simply couldn’t bring herself to tell him what they’d done.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Mr. Ingalls,” Annie said.

His eyes narrowed. He knew she was lying.

“I objected to their behavior,” she said. “I told them so.”

Josh’s brows went up. “And?”

Annie gazed right back at him. “You needn’t worry yourself with the details, Mr. Ingalls. I handled the situation.” She dropped Cassie to the ground and urged the children away. “Run along, now.”

For an instant they stood there, glancing at their father, then at Annie. She gave Ginny a little push. “It’s all right. Go play.”

Ginny grabbed her sister’s hand and the three of them raced away.

Annie watched them go, feeling the relief she’d seen in their little faces. Feeling, also, the heat of Josh’s gaze on her back.

She took a breath and turned to him. He didn’t seem to notice her as he watched the children disappear into the corn rows. “Damn…for what I pay a nanny, you’d think I could keep one here.”

Josh stared after the children a while longer, then looked down at Annie. “Come up to the house. Now.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, just touched his heels to the horse’s sides and galloped away.

A numb silence hung in his wake. Not even leaves dared to rustle in the trees overhead. Annie stood rooted to the spot, unable to move.

He was going to fire her.

Only a short while ago, everything had—finally—started to look up for her. She had a job she liked. She could help provide for her family.

She could save her little sister.

Annie’s stomach twisted into a knot. Of all the things that troubled her, that one was the worst.

Now, like everything else in her future, it was all gone. Simply because she couldn’t mind her own business.

Josh Ingalls would fire her. She was sure of it. And why shouldn’t he? After the way she’d spoken to him, the way she’d taken it upon herself to discipline his children.

It was none of her business. None at all.

With a heavy sigh, Annie headed toward the house. As she passed the garden, three little faces peeked out through the cornstalks.

“You’re gonna get it,” Drew predicted grimly.

“Get it good,” Ginny agreed solemnly.

Cassie nodded wisely.

Annie drew in a breath, shaking off the fear humming in her veins. “I’m sure your father simply wants to discuss something with me.”

The three children shared a skeptical look and shook their heads gravely.

Annie squared her shoulders and marched on toward the house.

“Wait!” Ginny ran after her and tugged her sleeve. “Are you going to tell Papa what we did? With the slingshot?”

Gazing down at the three frightened faces, Annie still couldn’t bring herself to tell their papa what they’d done.

“What happened is between us,” she told the children. “It’s our business. No one else’s.”

“That means you ain’t gonna tell?” Drew asked.

Annie smiled. “That’s exactly what it means.”

His eyes widened. “Truly? You ain’t gonna tell on us?”

“Truly,” Annie said.

Instead of a thank-you, or even a smile, Drew stuck out his tongue at her. Ginny grabbed little Cassie’s hand and they all ran away.

For a moment, Annie considered running after them. Escape. It certainly seemed preferable to what lay ahead of her at Mr. Ingalls’s house.

Annie trudged on. The house came into view. She imagined Josh Ingalls inside at this very moment, telling his foreman to find someone else to tend the gardens.

Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that Josh Ingalls was also looking for a nanny.

Her footsteps slowed as her mind spun. Annie had seen the last nanny leave two days ago. What was it Josh had said in the meadow just now? Something about how much he paid his nanny?

Money. Annie’s heart beat faster. She needed money for her family. If a nanny earned more than a farm worker, maybe she could—

At the rain barrel at the corner of the cookhouse, Annie pushed her straw hat off, letting it dangle against her back, and washed her face and hands. She did her best to brush the dust and dirt from her clothes.

Gracious, she hardly looked fit to enter such a fine home, especially now when she desperately needed to make a good impression. Now, with this great idea bubbling in her mind.

Annie hurried up the back steps. A woman blocked the door—tall, thin, with her dark hair streaked with gray and drawn back in a severe bun. She wore a black dress and a frown.

Mrs. Flanders, surely. Annie had never met the woman, but the other field workers she’d talked to here at the Ingalls farm had spoken of her. She ran the house.

“Miss Martin?” she asked, looking her up and down.

Annie managed a nod, feeling all the more out of place in her plain clothing.

“Follow me,” Mrs. Flanders instructed.

Trailing her through the house, Annie found her heart thumping in her chest. Thick carpets with intricate designs lay on the floors. Graceful furniture with carved arms and legs filled the rooms, along with framed paintings, delicate lanterns and figurines. Everything was elegant and pristine.

Except for Annie. She glanced behind her, fearful she’d tracked dirt on the floor.

At the end of a long hallway, Mrs. Flanders motioned for her to stop, stuck her head inside double doors, then turned to Annie once more.

“You may go in,” she said, her lips curling downward in a disapproving scowl. “Don’t touch anything.”

Anger sparked in Annie as the woman disappeared down the hall. Certainly, her clothing was soiled. But that was because she’d been working in the garden, doing the job she was hired to do. And, yes, she was a plain and simple young woman. But that made her no less a good person. Regardless of how the housekeeper looked down on her.

Regardless of what the gossips said.

“Miss Martin?” Josh Ingalls’s voice boomed from inside the room.

Annie’s shoulders straightened. The man could fire her if he chose. But she wouldn’t run away like a whipped dog. She’d have the satisfaction of speaking her mind. And maybe, just maybe, she’d come away with a better job.

Annie stepped into the room. Dark carpets covered the floor. Leather-bound books filled one wall. A moose head with antlers hung above the fireplace. A gigantic desk dominated the center of the room. Josh Ingalls sat behind it.

“Come in,” he said impatiently, shuffling papers on the desk.

He’d taken off his hat, and Annie saw that his hair was thick and dark, the same color as the children’s. For once, it seemed, the rumors were true. Josh Ingalls was a handsome man, with a strong jaw, straight nose and clear brown eyes. He looked even bigger seated behind his desk than he had atop his horse.

His white shirt was open at the collar, revealing a slice of deeply tanned skin—like his face—and black, curling chest hair. Even after being in the fields all morning, he looked clean and crisp.

Annie glanced down at her fingernails, then curled her hands behind her.

He made a spinning motion with his hand, urging her closer to his desk as he opened drawers, searching for something.

“When I ask a question, Miss Martin, I expect an answer. A complete answer, not simply what you choose to tell me,” Josh said. “So I’ll ask one last time. What went on out there with those children?”

“Your children, do you mean?” she asked, and stopped in front of his desk.

His gaze came up and he ceased rifling through the drawers. “Yes. My…children.”

“I don’t know what type of nanny you’re used to, Mr. Ingalls, but when I see a situation that needs addressing, I handle it. That’s what happened with your children,” Annie told him. “If I overstepped my boundaries, I apologize. But I see no need for you to concern yourself further. Surely you have more important matters to attend to.”

He blinked at her, taken aback by what she’d said. Apparently, Josh Ingalls wasn’t used to being spoken to in that manner. Annie held her breath.

He shrugged and started going through the drawers again. “That’s for damn sure,” he muttered. “I’ve searched the settlement, written to agencies all the way to the East Coast, everything. Why should it be such a monumental task to get and keep a nanny?”

“Perhaps you’re not looking in the right place,” Annie offered. “Or for the right sort of person.”

He glared at her now, clearly not pleased at her criticism. “For your information, Miss Martin, the women I hire as nannies are quite competent.”

“Including the last one?”

“Of course.”

“The one I saw running from the house two days ago, screaming and tearing at her hair?”

Josh looked away. “She—she took the job for the wrong reason.”

“My point exactly,” Annie said. “I’m aware of what those reasons are, Mr. Ingalls. You’re wealthy. The Ingalls name is to be envied. You, personally, are the talk of the settlement. Women find you attractive and are captivated by the size of your…”

Josh’s brows rose. He leaned forward slightly. “The size of my…?”

“House,” Annie told him.

A tense, awkward moment passed while they simply looked at each other. A strange warmth pooled inside Annie. Josh seemed to look at her—and really see her—for the first time. Then he swallowed hard and yanked open the bottom drawer.

Annie rushed ahead. “Anyway, unlike all the other young women in the settlement, Mr. Ingalls, I’m only interested in the welfare of your children. That’s why I’d make a perfect nanny.”

Josh pulled a ledger from the drawer. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” she declared, standing straighter.

“You’ve had experience as a nanny?”

To tell him the truth would end all chances of her getting the job—and the increase in her pay.

“Certainly,” Annie said. Surely having two younger sisters and tending an endless number of nieces, nephews and cousins qualified her to look after small children—even the unruly Ingalls children.

He sank further into his chair, studying her at his leisure. Annie felt her skin heat and tried desperately to think of something else to say.

“Tell me about yourself, Miss Martin,” Josh said at long last. “You and your family.”

A cold chill passed through Annie. Her and her family. Why hadn’t she thought ahead enough to realize he’d want this information? Why had she even come in here and asked for the job?

Then it occurred to Annie that if he was asking, that meant he didn’t already know. But how could that be? How could he not have heard about her and her family? Was it possible the gossip hadn’t spread to the Ingalls farm?