The Nanny’s Temporary Triplets

A Family-to-Be

After fleeing to Little Horn, Texas, when she discovered her fiancé was a con man, Caroline Murray agrees to act as the temporary nanny for her brother’s handsome neighbor. Though caring for David McKay’s daughter and the orphaned infant triplets he’s fostering is just a charitable gesture, she’s falling for the children and David. But if there’s one lesson Caroline won’t forget, it’s that her feelings can’t be trusted.

With children to care for and a ranch to run, David definitely needs help—though he doesn’t want a new wife. But his affection for Caroline runs deeper than mere appreciation of her skills as a nanny. She was only supposed to be a temporary solution, but will Caroline find a permanent place in David’s heart?

“Why can’t Miss Caroline be our nanny?”

All the grown-ups froze. David’s eyebrow lifted. Had his darling daughter just said “our nanny,” as in she’d consider herself one of Caroline’s charges?

Caroline’s lashes fluttered as she recovered from her surprise. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I couldn’t.”

Maggie’s eyes clouded. “Why not?”

“Well, I’m not going to be here very long, for one thing. For another, I’ve never been a nanny before.”

“Maybe not,” Ida interjected. “But you certainly seem to have a way with the triplets.”

“Ma, Miss Murray is here to visit her family, not work for ours.”

“Of course we wouldn’t want to impose, Caroline, but your family would be welcome to visit here as often as they want.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Caroline’s gaze landed on his, soft as a butterfly, filled with questions.

Did he want her to help them? The answer was an irrevocable no. Did he need her help? Ida’s meaningful glare said yes. When he remained silent, she prompted, “We sure could use your help. Couldn’t we, David?”

He swallowed hard. “There’s no denying that.”

* * *

Lone Star Cowboy League: Multiple Blessings

The Rancher’s Surprise Triplets—

Linda Ford, April 2017

The Nanny’s Temporary Triplets—

Noelle Marchand, May 2017

The Bride’s Matchmaking Triplets—

Regina Scott, June 2017

Dear Reader,

Writing has always been something hugely personal to me. It’s also always been something rather private to the point where most of my friends and even family had no idea I was interested in writing until surprise, surprise! I had a book being published. Back then, I learned a very valuable lesson about not hiding your light under a bushel.

Five years later, I was honored to be asked by my editor to take part in this series. I am so glad that I said yes. Writing this book has taught me so much about what it means to share, to let what I create become a collaboration and to appreciate the ideas others bring to the table.

For this intensely personal and private writer, it was very much a chance to get back to the basics of the lesson I learned when I was just starting out. Writing, by its nature, is something meant to be shared. The story that begins in my imagination takes on a life of its own in yours. I think that is downright incredible.

I am so blessed that I was able to share that process with my editor, Elizabeth Mazer, and the two other authors in the Lone Star Cowboy League: Multiple Blessings series, Linda Ford and Regina Scott. Please be sure to read the other books in the series to see how the search for the triplets’ family begins and ends. I’m sure you will enjoy the other installments as much as I hope you’ve enjoyed this one.

To find out more about me and the other books I’ve written, be sure to go to NoelleMarchand.com. You can also search for me on social media sites such as Facebook, Goodreads, Twitter and Pinterest. I’d love to hear from you.

Blessings!

NOELLE MARCHAND is a native Houstonian living out her childhood dream of being a writer. She graduated summa cum laude from Houston Baptist University in 2012, earning a bachelor’s degree in mass communications and speech communications. She loves exploring new books and new cities. When she’s not scribbling out her latest manuscript, you may find her pursuing one of her other passions—music, dance, history and classic movies.

The Nanny’s Temporary Triplets

Noelle Marchand

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For God is working in you, giving you the desire and the power to do what pleases Him.

—Philippians 2:13

Special thanks to everyone involved in the creation of the Lone Star Cowboy League: Multiple Blessings series, especially Linda Ford, Regina Scott and Elizabeth Mazer!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

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

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Austin, Texas

July 1896

“By the power vested in me by God and the state of Texas—”

“Stop this wedding!”

Everything around Caroline Murray seemed to blur. Yet she was more aware than she’d ever been. Time fractured until it was made up of nothing more than tiny details. Seemingly insignificant, she could still feel their indelible stamp on her soul.

Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows of the church, spilling a bizarre assortment of colors onto her pure-white gown. Her hands were clasped in her groom’s. His grip held hers tighter and tighter. So tight now that it was almost painful, not unlike the ring he’d placed on her finger only moments ago that had somehow been forged a size too small.

None of that mattered now because through the dreamy tinge of her veil she watched another woman march down the aisle with a baby in her arms and righteous indignation on her drawn features. Caroline turned back to her groom in confusion, waiting for him to take charge. She saw panic flash across his face before his dashing smile faded to a scowl. Yet he didn’t breathe a word. It seemed she would have to be the one to deal with the stranger who’d brought their wedding to a halt.

It was silent. Too silent with more than two hundred people in the chapel. Even the baby, with his eerily familiar eyes, stared at her without a sound. Somehow Caroline found her voice. “Who are you? What do you want?”

Compassion filled the eyes of the woman who surveyed her. “My name is Lucette Calabrese.”

“She is my sister,” Nico Calabrese asserted as if his strong Italian features bore any resemblance to the delicate ones of the woman who spoke with the inflections of the French.

Lucette closed her eyes and winced. “No. I am his wife.”

Caroline recoiled. “What?”

Lucette bounced the baby in her arms slightly. “This is our son.”

“Caroline, don’t believe her.” Nico’s dark, pleading eyes captured Caroline’s. “She is a crazy woman who follows me from town to town. She is obsessed with my career, my music, my voice.”

“Nico is right. I am crazy...for following him from city to city, standing by as he wastes the money he earns at the gambling table, then makes up for it by seducing unsuspecting women out of their fortunes.” Lucette lifted her chin. “But no longer. I am going home to France. His music, career and voice do not enchant me in the least. I came here today because I could not let him ruin another life the way he has ruined mine.”

Nico finally released Caroline’s hands. “How can you say these things?”

Lucette ignored him. “He will take your dowry and leave you after the honeymoon. That is his plan. Save yourself and your virtue while you can.”

With that, Lucette turned on her heel and walked out of the church. Nico swallowed hard. Turning back to Caroline, he asked, “Do you believe her?”

Her heart screamed no, but her head silenced it. A kaleidoscope of memories paraded through her mind. Their romance had been a fairy tale from the start. They’d met through her parents’ connections in the crème de la crème of Austin’s music society. He was everything they had always wanted for her and exactly what she’d wanted for herself: educated, well-traveled and, most important of all, musical. His skill at the piano wasn’t particularly anything to brag about, especially in comparison to her father’s, but then Lawrence Murray had been a world-renowned pianist from the age of eight.

Nico’s voice, however, was the epitome of what a classical tenor should be. His control over it was astounding, his lyrical phrasing impeccable. He put new shadow, light, vibrancy into melodies she’d heard hundreds of times before and made them exciting again.

Her parents loved him. He’d become the musical son they’d never had. So much so that she’d been glad her tone-deaf brother, Matthew, had been too preoccupied with his cattle and growing family in Little Horn, Texas, to see how they doted on Nico.

He was the handsomest man she’d ever seen and the only man to look beyond the influence and glamour of her parents’ lives to notice her—the girl with a voice that was pretty, but not nearly strong enough to match her mother’s mezzosoprano or to even make it onto the stage. Embarrassingly enough, Caroline had little else to recommend her. Why else would her father have set aside such an obscene amount of money for her dowry, then discreetly make it public knowledge?

Nico had told her the money didn’t matter to him. He loved her for who she was. In return he was destined to be her first and only love. Their romance was going to be able to meet the standard set by the tender tomes of her parents’ love story. At the very least, it was meant to rival her brother’s idyllic one. And it had.

Until now.

Maybe that had been the problem. All of it had been too good to be true. So much a fairy tale that it well and truly was only that—fiction.

She pulled in a deep breath, locked eyes with the man she’d just pledged her life to and suddenly felt dirty, soiled. Anger burned within her so hot and deep that it couldn’t rise to the surface. She pushed it away, clinging instead to the protective numbness. “Yes, Nico. I believe your wife.”

His shoulders sank, but he offered an irascible half smile and tweaked her nose in that familiar way of his. “It was fun while it lasted. Arrivederci, my sweet.”

She cringed away, but he was too busy rushing out the door to notice. It closed with a bang loud enough to startle some sense into her. She turned to her parents and their guests. “Wait. Shouldn’t someone arrest him for something?”

A few laughs punctuated the shocked silence as a few justice-minded men bolted off in pursuit. Caroline took advantage of the general confusion that followed to slip out the side door into the harsh sunlight. She shoved her veil out of the way and hugged her arms around her waist. Wincing as the door opened behind her, she turned with a glare that softened at the sight of her brother.

Matthew didn’t say anything at first. He just searched her face in concern. Finally, he ran his fingers through his blond hair and pleaded, “Carrie, let me take you away from here until all this blows over.”

“Where would we go?”

“To my ranch.”

A laugh escaped her. “In Little and Worn?”

His scowl lacked any real bite. “You know the town is named Little Horn.”

She offered him a faint smile. “I know.”

He caught her arm gently. “Come with me. Get away from the city. The country is beautiful, Caroline. The sky goes on forever. It’s the kind of place that puts everything in perspective. Emma and I would love to spend time with you. You could go riding, let loose without worrying about what society thinks of you.”

As though on cue, guests started exiting from the front of the church. They walked in groups with their heads together. No doubt already gossiping about what they’d seen. Who could blame them? If she’d been a guest at such a wedding, she’d talk about it, too. The gossip in Austin was going to be unbearable for the next few weeks. Besides that, she and Nico had made memories all over town.

Someone spotted her. The society reporter from Austin’s most widely read newspaper. He veered her way. Caroline tensed. Her voice came out kind of wobbly. “Matt, get me out of here.”

Within minutes she was in the carriage beside her brother and sister-in-law. They went back to their parents’ house, where Caroline changed into her traveling clothes. Her trunks were already packed. Having said goodbye to her parents at the church, Caroline was on a train headed toward Little Horn in less than an hour.

Relief filled her as the train lumbered into the station at Little Horn after what felt like an eternity. Soon she would be tucked away at her brother’s ranch, where she might be provided some modicum of privacy.

As they stepped onto the train platform, Emma placed a hand on her rounded stomach. “I hate to say this, but the baby and my stomach are both doing flips. I think I need to eat something now before it gets any worse.”

Matthew placed a comforting hand on his wife’s back. “We’ll stop at the café before we head home.”

Caroline realized she should be ravenous. She’d been too nervous to eat before the ceremony and had had nothing since. Yet food didn’t interest her, and she wasn’t sure she could hold her emotions together long enough to eat an entire meal at the café. A hand reached through the fog to give hers a light squeeze. Caroline met her sister-in-law’s understanding gaze. “Would you like to take a walk first and meet us there when you’re ready?”

“Yes,” Caroline agreed almost desperately even as Matthew protested.

Emma ignored her husband. “Go right ahead, Caroline. The church is around the corner and across the street. You might be able to find some privacy there.”

“Thank you.” Caroline wasted no time in finding the church, but she stopped just shy of entering. She followed the walkway between the church and what seemed to be the parsonage, hoping it might lead exactly where it did. The path opened into a small sort of...well, park would a generous term. It was really just a field. Though the wildflowers and grass were all but dried up, the space was blessedly empty.

A few tall live oaks provided refuge from the sun. She sank to her knees at the base of one. She opened her hand to stare at the small gold wedding band she’d carried all this way. She should have thrown it out. Yet when she’d removed the silly thing, she’d been unable to let it go.

Now it gleamed in the bright Texas sun, mocking her, berating her, teasing her with the reality of what her situation might have been had she gone through with the wedding. Not the roses, cake and laughter she’d expected, but robbery, ruination, abandonment. Closing her eyes, she clenched her hand and let the metal bite into her fingers. “How could I be so utterly stupid? So ridiculously foolish? How did I not suspect anything?”

She lowered her head to bury her fingers in her hair and fought against the tears filling her eyes. The sound of approaching footsteps made her still. She stared through blurry eyes at the man who’d stopped some distance away. He removed his hat in a gesture of respect, then went down on one knee as though purposefully making himself smaller. His broad shoulders and muscled form could be deemed intimidating. Yet there was no mistaking the gentleness or concern in his drawl. “Ma’am, I don’t mean to intrude, but I couldn’t pass by without asking. Are you all right? I mean, are you sick? Should I get a doctor?”

A doctor would be of no help to her. Still, it was a sweet gesture. A wobbly smile tilted her lips. “No, thank you.”

There was a moment of silence. He was probably trying to figure out what to do next. Was there a polite way to ask him to leave? There had to be.

She blinked several times to clear her vision. Everything blurry came back into focus. He was handsome. So handsome that the gentle dismissal she planned to deliver died even as her lips parted to speak.

She wanted to look away, but his gaze held hers in place. More than that, it seemed to peer deep inside, where he had no business being. Then something flickered in his eyes. Recognition. Kindness. An odd feeling of kinship stretched between them as if he understood her pain and, in his own way, had felt it, too.

This time there was no question in his voice. “You are hurt.”

She wanted to deny it, but her heart wouldn’t listen. The ache in her chest reopened, becoming a chasm too wide to run from. Her tears would no longer be denied or controlled. They flooded her cheeks. Sobs broke free, along with more shame and self-recrimination than she’d ever felt before. She no longer cared that she had an audience. What was one more person when so many had already witnessed her humiliation?

* * *

David McKay wasn’t afraid of a woman’s tears. His late wife had been a crier. Anytime he’d disagreed with her or displayed the slightest displeasure over her wandering eye, she’d cried until he turned to putty in her hands. That had lasted until his mother had oh so casually mentioned she’d heard Laura instructing a friend on how to make herself cry. After that, he’d let Laura cry as often as she wanted. She’d eventually realized her tears wouldn’t sway him and saved her energy for other ways to torment him.

Then his pa had been fatally gored by a longhorn. Nothing David did could stop his mother’s tears. All he could do was offer a shoulder and a handkerchief to mop up her tears when she was done. She’d gone on and on to her friends about what a comfort her son had been in her grief. That was when he’d learned a secret about women strange enough to boggle any man’s mind. They wanted to cry. The sooner a fellow let them do it, the sooner they’d stop on their own accord.

Of course, the difference was that the woman crying now was a complete stranger to him...and a beautiful one at that. Yet he couldn’t leave a woman crying in the dirt without trying to offer at least a little comfort. He approached her as he would an injured heifer, hoping not to frighten her. She didn’t seem to care one way or the other. She just kept crying in heartbreaking sobs that shook her whole body.

He tentatively put a comforting hand on her back, between her shoulder blades. She didn’t flinch away, so he left it there. Her shudder seemed to travel up his arm. She began to talk. David knelt beside her to listen to her quiet confession through her sobs. “I loved him. I really did.”

His eyebrows rose, though he couldn’t say he was surprised. He’d suspected she was a victim of heartbreak by the pain he’d seen in her eyes.

“I never imagined he had a wife.”

Everything within him stilled. He swallowed down the instinctive aversion he had for anyone who played fast and loose with fidelity. He’d had more than enough of that from his late wife.

“How stupid can one person be? To be taken in like that? To believe every lie and ignore any sign of the truth?”

All right. She’d been lied to. That didn’t exactly excuse it, but it did explain it. It also made her the injured party here. Her and the man’s wife. He’d been in that situation one too many times not to feel compassion for her.

With a sigh, David settled in the dirt beside the woman and put his arm around her shoulders. He was kind of hoping she’d get all offended and push him away. She leaned slightly into him instead. He gave in to the moment, as crazy as it seemed, and pulled her a bit closer. Her cheek landed on his chest, allowing warm tears to spill onto his shirt. He ran his right hand up and down her arm in a calming, predictable pattern while his left hand rested on his knee in full view of her downturned face, making it clear he wasn’t panning to take advantage of the situation.

Her sobs faded to intermittent shudders. The wet patch on his shirt began to cool. He dug a white handkerchief from his chest pocket and offered it to her. “You can keep this, so don’t be afraid to blow your nose if you need to.”

A small, watery laugh reached his ear as she took his offering. She wiped her face, then blew her nose before whispering, “Thank you, Pastor.”

David’s eyes widened. “I’m not a preacher. I’m a rancher.”

“A rancher?” Dismay filled her voice as she pulled back to look at him with hazel eyes that were an intriguing mix of brown, amber and green.

He tried not to grimace. It figured she’d be one of those women like his wife. The kind that against all odds got even prettier when she cried. Color flushed her cheeks while reddening her nose only slightly. A rich brown tendril came loose over her right eye. It threatened to tangle in the dark lashes that her tears had turned spiky.

He lifted a hand and brushed it back. She froze. Suddenly aware of the intimacy of the moment, he removed his arm from around her and searched for something, anything, to put distance between them. “Something wrong with being a rancher?”

“Of course not. My brother is a rancher. It’s only that being near the church and you being so kind and all, I assumed...” She trailed off with a shrug.

“No. I was just on my way to the parsonage and happened to see you. You say your brother is a rancher? How is it that I’ve never seen you around town before?”

“I haven’t been around town before. Not for several years, that is. I’m visiting my brother. His name is Matthew Murray.”

“I know Matthew. He’s a good friend of mine.” Matthew had mentioned he would be leaving town for a few days to attend his sister’s wedding. The puzzle pieces shifted into place. “And you’re Caroline.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Yes.”

He hesitantly added, “I take it the wedding didn’t go as planned.”

“No.” She glanced toward the church. “It did not.”

That was probably for the best, though he wasn’t sure she’d appreciate him saying so. He kept quiet, watching for any indication she wanted to be alone. She turned to look up at him with curiosity. “I just realized I don’t know your name.”

“David McKay.”

Her lashes lowered toward her cheeks. “Well, David McKay, thank you for listening to my troubles and...”

“Holding you in my arms?” He probably shouldn’t have teased her, but he wanted to see if he could make her smile just once before they parted ways. He wasn’t disappointed.

Her laughing hazel eyes met his, acknowledging the underlying absurdity of the encounter, while her lips tilted into a smile. “That, too.”

Anytime, he wanted to say, but that would be inappropriate. It would also be flirtatious, and David hadn’t tried his hand at flirting since Laura had died five years ago. He wasn’t planning to start now. Especially not with a woman whose heart had just been broken. He knew from experience how long that could take to heal.