The Westmoreland Legacy: The Rancher Returns (The Westmoreland Legacy) / His Secret Son (The Westmoreland Legacy) / An Honourable Seduction (The Westmoreland Legacy)

About the Author

BRENDA JACKSON is a New York Times bestselling author of more than one hundred romance titles. Brenda lives in Jacksonville, Florida, and divides her time between family, writing and travelling.

Email Brenda at [e-mail] or visit her on her website at www.brendajackson.net.

The Westmoreland Legacy

The Rancher Returns

His Secret Son

An Honorable Seduction

Brenda Jackson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09306-4

THE WESTMORELAND LEGACY

The Rancher Returns © 2016 Brenda Streater Jackson His Secret Son © 2017 Brenda Streater Jackson An Honourable Seduction © 2018 Brenda Streater Jackson

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2018-12-19

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Title Page

Copyright

The Rancher Returns

Back Cover Text

Dedication

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Epilogue

His Secret Son

Back Cover Text

Dedication

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Epilogue

An Honorable Seduction

Back Cover Text

Dedication

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Epilogue

About the Publisher

The Rancher Returns

Brenda Jackson

Discover New York Times bestselling author Brenda Jackson’s The Westmoreland Legacy—a navy SEAL returns to his ranch...and finds irresistible desire!

Returning from active duty to find his ranch being dug up by a beautiful stranger isn’t the homecoming navy SEAL Gavin Blake expected. Layla Harris is convinced there’s buried treasure on his land. But the only treasure this wealthy rancher wants to uncover is the professor’s secret desires! When Layla unearths family secrets—and mysterious threats—he vows to do whatever it takes to protect her. Even as her revelations change everything...

To the love of my life, Gerald Jackson, Sr.

My first. My last. My everything.

To everyone who loves the Westmorelands,

this book is for you!

To the 1971 class of William M. Raines High School,

Jacksonville, Florida. Best wishes on our

45th class reunion. Ichiban!

Plans fail for lack of counsel,

but with many advisers they succeed.

—Proverbs 15:22

Prologue

“Hey, Viper, your cell phone was going off upstairs.”

Gavin Blake, known to his SEAL teammates as Viper, nodded as he set his coffee mug on a side table in the barracks’ common area. Standing, he stretched the kinks out of his body and felt his aches all the way to the bone. Their last covert operation had been risky as hell, but they’d succeeded in destroying yet another ISIS stronghold.

In two days they would officially be off duty and most of his teammates would be heading for home. However he had other plans. Getting laid was at the top of his agenda. It had been too long since he’d shared a woman’s bed and he’d already made plans with a beautiful bartender he’d met in Mississippi while helping his teammate Bane out of a fairly dangerous situation several months ago.

Gavin raced up the stairs toward his berthing unit and retrieved his cell phone from the gear in his bunk. He’d missed a call from Sherman Lott, the man who’d lived on the neighboring ranch for years. Panic floated through Gavin’s belly. Had something happened to his grandmother?

Since his grandmother lived alone when he was away, Gavin had given their closest neighbors his contact information in case of emergencies. Of course the foreman was there, running the ranch in Gavin’s absence. Surely if something was going on with his grandmother, Caldwell would have contacted Gavin. But what if this was one of those times when Caldwell had gone to Saint Louis to meet with one of their beef distributors?

Gavin quickly pressed the redial button and Mr. Lott picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Mr. Lott, this is Gavin. Has something happened to Gramma Mel?”

“No, Gavin, your grandmother is fine physically. Not sure what’s happening to her mind, though.”

Gavin frowned, wondering what the man meant. Although she was nearing her seventy-fifth birthday, Gavin had never known a day in all his thirty-two years when Melody Blake hadn’t been sharp as a tack. He’d spoken with his grandmother two weeks ago and she had sounded just fine to him. “What makes you think something is wrong with her mind?”

“She’s allowed some fast-talking college professor to convince her that the outlaw Jesse James buried some of his loot on the Silver Spurs, and they plan to start digging up parts of her land next week.”

Gavin refrained from correcting the man. The land was their property since Gavin legally owned all eight hundred acres jointly with his grandmother. Instead he concentrated on what Lott had said. His grandmother had given someone permission to dig on the Silver Spurs?

“There must be some mistake, Mr. Lott. You know my grandmother as well as I do. There’s no way she would allow some man to—”

“It’s a woman. A professor by the name of Dr. Harris.”

Gavin drew in a deep breath. Who the hell was Dr. Harris and how had she talked his grandmother into agreeing to a dig on Blake land?

Rubbing a hand down his face, Gavin knew he would be flying home and not making that pit stop in Mississippi after all. Damn!

“Gavin?”

“Yes, Mr. Lott, I’m here.”

“I hated to call you knowing you’re probably somewhere doing important work for our country, but I felt you needed to know what’s going on.”

“And I appreciate you doing so. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll be home in a couple of days.”

Gavin hung up the phone and cursed in anger. He then placed a call to his ranch foreman, Caldwell Andrews. The phone was answered on the third ring.

“Caldwell? What’s going on at the Silver Spurs? Sherman Lott just called and he thinks Gramma Melody has gone loco. He said something about her allowing some professor to dig on the ranch?”

He heard Caldwell curse under his breath before saying, “I wish Lott hadn’t called you, Gavin. Your grandmother is fine. She likes the professor. They talked and according to Ms. Mel she read the professor’s report and it’s legit.”

Viper rolled his eyes. “Caldwell, you know as well as I do that there’s no buried treasure on the Silver Spurs. If you recall, when I was in my teens, Dad allowed this outfit to come in and dig up parts of the land when they convinced him there was oil somewhere on it. Not a drop of oil was found.”

“I remember. But I guess Ms. Mel figured a little digging wouldn’t hurt anything since it’s a small area, away from the main house and far away from where the cows are kept. It’s the south pasture.”

“The south pasture?”

“Yes. Nobody ever goes over there.”

Nobody but me, Gavin thought. He knew everyone thought of the south pasture as wasted land since it had compacted soil, little or no vegetation and unsuitable irrigation. However, that part of the ranch was where he could escape and find solace whenever he needed to be alone. For some reason, going there always renewed his spirits. It was where he’d gone as a kid whenever he would miss his mother, where he’d gone after getting word about his father being killed in the Middle East. And last year he had camped out there a couple of days after returning from his mission and believing his teammate Coop was dead. It was there in the south pasture where Gavin had dealt with the thought of his good friend dying.

“Like I said, Gavin. Your grandmother has everything under control.”

He wasn’t so sure of that. “I’ll find that out for myself since I’ll be home in a few days. Don’t mention my visit to Gramma Mel. I want to surprise her.” When he hung up the phone, he rubbed a frustrated hand down his face.

“Viper? Hey, man, you okay?”

Viper turned to see four sets of eyes staring at him with concern. His SEAL teammates. They were Brisbane Westmoreland, team name Bane; Thurston McRoy, team name Mac; Laramie Cooper, team name Coop; and David Holloway, team name Flipper. The five of them had survived all phases of SEAL training together and were not only teammates, but like brothers. More than once they’d risked their lives for each other and would continue to have each other’s backs, on duty or off.

“Viper?”

He heard the impatience in Mac’s voice and spoke up before Mac’s edginess got the best of them. “It’s my grandmother.”

“What about Gramma Mel?” Flipper asked, moving closer. Each of them had at one time or another gone home with Viper and met his grandmother.

“Is she sick?” Bane asked.

Viper shook his head. “No, it’s nothing like that. My neighbor called to let me know that Gramma Mel gave some college professor permission to dig on our property. This professor has convinced my grandmother that Jesse James buried some of his stolen loot on the Silver Spurs.”

The worried expressions on his friends’ faces switched to relief and then amusement. “Is that all?” Coop asked, grinning, resting his broad shoulder against a wall.

“That’s enough. Nobody has permission to dig on the Silver Spurs.”

“Evidently your grandmother gave it,” Bane pointed out.

“Well, that permission is being rescinded, and I’m going to make sure Gramma Mel and this professor know it.”

“Did you talk to Caldwell?” Flipper asked.

“Yes, but he’ll go along with anything my grandmother says. Now I have to head straight home instead of making that pit stop in Mississippi like I’d planned. Hell, that means I’m giving up a chance to get laid for this foolishness.”

Mac grinned. “But what if Jesse James did hide some of his loot on your land? If I recall, he and his gang robbed a number of banks in and around the Missouri area.”

Gavin frowned as he zipped up his gear and faced his friends. “There’s not any loot on the Silver Spurs and nobody can convince me otherwise.”

One

Layla Harris smiled as she accepted the plate of cookies. “Ms. Melody, I wished you wouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”

She said the words out of politeness, knowing they weren’t true. Nobody could bake like Melody Blake and she was glad the older woman not only liked doing so but also enjoyed sharing her baked goods with Layla. Especially when the snack included a delicious tall glass of milk that had been produced right here on this ranch.

“No trouble at all,” Melody Blake said, smiling. “Besides, I enjoy your company. It can get lonely in these parts.”

Layla knew the Silver Spurs was a good half-hour car ride from town. At least Ms. Melody had neighbors living fairly close who checked in on her regularly. Layla had discovered the land owned by the majority of the people in this area had been in their families for generations and most of it was used for ranching cattle.

There was something special about the eighteen hundred acres encompassing the Silver Spurs and the spacious Blake family ranch home. Layla had felt welcomed the moment she had driven into the yard. The sprawling ranch house was massive and Layla figured it had to be over fifty-five hundred square feet. What she liked most was the wraparound porch with a swing that faced a beautiful pond.

Ms. Melody, a retired librarian, had said she didn’t mind living in the huge house alone because she was used to it, and reading and baking kept her busy. The kitchen alone was massive and it was where the older woman spent a lot of her days, creating mouthwatering treats. In addition to the huge main house, there was a spacious guest cottage located within walking distance.

When Ms. Melody had agreed to let Layla conduct her archaeological dig on the property, she’d also kindly invited Layla to stay in the main house, but Layla preferred the guesthouse. She could come and go without disturbing the older woman.

According to Ms. Melody, the Silver Spurs had been a prosperous cattle ranch for years. It had even survived when the majority of the men, including Ms. Melody’s husband, left to fight in the Vietnam War. When her husband and son became full-time military men, they’d hired a foreman to keep things running smoothly. Ms. Melody also explained that although her grandson was active in the military as a navy SEAL, whenever he returned home he reclaimed his role as a rancher.

Layla met Caldwell Andrews, the ranch foreman, and found the man pleasant and capable. The same held true for the men who worked for him. They appeared to be hard workers who were dedicated and loyal to the Blake family.

There was so much about Melody Blake that reminded Layla of her own grandmother. Both were independent, in the best of health for women their ages and were active in their churches and communities. Only thing, Gramma Candace wasn’t a baker. She preferred spending her time with a knitting needle instead of a baking pan.

“I thought I’d bake chocolate chip cookies this time. They’re Gavin’s favorite,” Ms. Melody said, breaking into Layla’s musings.

At the mention of Ms. Melody’s grandson, Layla couldn’t dismiss the shiver that went through her body. Gavin Blake was a hunk. Although she’d never met him in person, she had seen enough of the man to judge his looks thanks to the numerous framed photographs that hung on several walls in this house. Layla knew it wasn’t the man’s ego that was responsible, but the grandmother who loved her grandson and was proud of the fact that, like the father and grandfather before him, he was a navy SEAL.

From all the photographs she’d seen, Layla could tell just how well built Gavin Blake was, how drop-dead gorgeous. He was definitely eye candy of the most delectable kind. Any woman would be hard-pressed not to feel some kind of sensual pull whenever she feasted her gaze on his image.

Layla had studied one of the close-up photos, which showed dimples when he smiled, a blunt nose, stubborn jaw and full lips. His angular face made him look so much like the warrior she’d heard him to be. She’d also heard he was quite the ladies’ man. That bit of information had been shared by some of the locals she’d met at the café where she occasionally ate lunch. Once they’d heard she was about to dig on Blake property, they didn’t hesitate to give her an earful.

According to a very talkative waitress whose eyes lit up whenever she spoke of Gavin, Layla had learned he had been a local football hero who had put Cornerstone, Missouri, on the map after leading his high school team to the state championship. No one had been surprised when he’d gone to the naval academy since he’d come from a military family. His father had been killed in the Gulf War and very little was known about his mother. Rumor had it that she’d been pretty, a few years younger than her husband and the two had married within a week of meeting in New York. Apparently, she’d never adjusted to being a military wife or living out on a ranch and had packed up and left. To this day she had never returned.

“Your grandson and I have something in common,” Layla said, returning her thoughts to the conversation, “since chocolate chip cookies are my favorite, as well.”

As she bit into a cookie, she thought that chocolate chip being their favorite was all she and Gavin had in common. Unlike him, she hadn’t spent much time enjoying the opposite sex. She’d spent most of her life in school, getting her advanced degrees and working toward tenure with little time for male companionship. She had doctorates in History and Archaeology, and at twenty-six she was the youngest professor at Flintwood University in Seattle. That position had come with sacrifices such as limiting her social life, especially when it came to dating. The only people bothered by her decisions were her parents. They were hoping a man would come along and put a ring on her finger and a baby in her belly. She was their only child and they didn’t hide the fact they wanted grandchildren.

Nor had they ever hidden the fact they weren’t happy with her career choice. They were both gifted neurosurgeons and they’d expected her to follow in their footsteps by entering the medical field. They hadn’t been pleased when she’d chosen not to do so. The thought of someone digging a hole in the ground instead of saving lives didn’t make sense to them. But she’d never felt the calling to be a doctor, and she knew history was important, too. Understanding the past kept people from repeating their mistakes.

“So, Layla, what’s the game plan for today?”

Layla smiled. She liked Ms. Melody’s attitude. When Layla had shown up on the Blakes’ doorstep over a week ago she hadn’t known what to expect. She definitely hadn’t been prepared for the older woman to believe her story about hidden treasure. She’d faced so much cynicism from colleagues regarding her research she’d come prepared to argue her points. Ms. Melody had listened and asked intelligent questions. Plenty of them. The older woman had also taken two days to review Layla’s research, which had resulted in more questions. It was only then that Ms. Melody had agreed, with a request for periodic updates.

Ms. Melody had told Layla that her grandson would most likely not support her decision, but she’d also promised she would deal with him when the time came. Besides, she didn’t expect him to return home for a few months, and it was highly likely the treasure would be found by then. Layla hoped that was true. Her creditability with the university was on the line. The possibility of tenure was riding on the success of this dig and publication of her findings and techniques.

She’d participated in several excavations, but this would be the first one she’d spearheaded. Funds from the university hadn’t been as much as she’d requested, due to budget cuts, but she was determined to make good use of what she’d been given and show results. The head of her department, Dr. Clayburn, hadn’t offered much support. He’d even tried shifting the funds to another project. Lucky for her, he’d been out of the country when the vote had been taken.

She’d worked all her life for this chance to prove she was an archaeologist of note. If her research was correct—and she knew it was—she’d be the first one to find any of Jesse James’s treasure, and she’d be the first to use some of the latest technology on a successful dig.

“Since all the permits are in order, I contacted the members of my team,” she said, smiling. “They will be arriving in a week.” Her excavation team consisted of students from the university, some from her classes and some from Dr. Clayburn’s. She had spoken with every one, and they were as anxious as she was to get started.

“You have to be excited about that.”

“Yes,” she answered, though she knew that’s when the pressure would begin. “The equipment will start arriving on Monday.” Layla took another bite into her cookie before adding, “Again, I really appreciate you letting us dig on your property, Ms. Melody.” It showed Layla that Ms. Melody believed in her work.