The Next Mrs. Blackthorne (Bitter Creek Book 6)

I want to thank Elizabeth Saunders, the deputy clerk in charge of the Austin Division of the U.S. District Court for the Western District of Texas, for her invaluable assistance with details about the federal court in Austin. If there are mistakes, they are mine.

My editor Maggie Crawford has the soul of patience, the cheerfulness of a good friend when you need one, and the amazing savvy to make my work better. Thank you, Maggie.

I am in awe of the effort it takes by so many people in a publishing house to get a novel to market and ensure its success there. To everyone at Pocket Books, especially my publisher Louise Burke, you are the best!

My agent Robert Gottlieb is always there when I need him and does his work so well that I don’t need him often. Just know how much I appreciate all you do.

I could never be a writer if I didn’t have good friends to get me through the tough chapters. You know who you are.

And to my mother, who passed away this year, I know you’re up there watching. And that you’re proud of me. And that you’ll like this one even better than the last. You always do.

“I can’t believe Dad’s marrying that uppity, French-speaking, redheaded bit—” Kate Grayhawk cut herself off before she called her father’s prospective wife the B-word. She glanced at her uncle North, who was brushing down his horse in an adjacent stall. “You’ve met Jocelyn, haven’t you, Uncle North. What do you think of her?”

“Are you done grooming that animal?” he asked.

Kate turned back to the bay gelding she’d ridden across her uncle’s Texas hill country ranch that morning, sending the brush down the animal’s back in long, soothing strokes. “Miss Montrose is only twenty-five—just six years older than me,” Kate continued. “Dad was married to her sister, for heaven’s sake.”

“If I’m not mistaken,” he said, “Jocelyn’s sister died two years ago, leaving your dad a widower.”

Kate flushed. “He should be marrying Mom.”

That was the crux of Kate’s problem. She couldn’t believe her forty-six-year-old father and thirty-five-year-old mother were going to throw away this last chance at finding happiness together. “If Grandpa King hadn’t kept them apart, Mom and Dad would have gotten married before I was born, instead of never getting married at all.”

Her uncle gave a noncommittal grunt and continued grooming his horse.

Kate lifted the bay’s black mane and brushed the animal’s sweaty neck. Kate’s waist-length black hair was caught up in a ponytail to keep it off her neck, but the leftover curls at her nape were damp from the heat. “I wish I knew how to make Dad change his mind about that French ambassador’s daughter he seems to think is so perfect for him.”

“I believe her father was ambassador
to
France,” her uncle corrected. “She was born in Connecticut.”

Kate shot her uncle a narrow-eyed look. “Whatever. Dad shouldn’t be marrying some blue-blooded Eastern tenderfoot. If that wedding happens next month, Mom’s heart is going to be broken into so many pieces, it’ll never mend.”

Kate watched for another look of censure, but her uncle seemed totally absorbed in the glossy black stallion he was brushing. She’d learned over the years that Uncle North never sympathized, never offered advice, never offered to solve her problems. In fact, sometimes his ice blue eyes were so cold, they made her shiver. When she was a kid, she’d dubbed him North
Pole
, he’d seemed so remote and unfeeling.

She’d also noticed that whenever she poured out her troubles to her uncle, they somehow miraculously got resolved. She was sure Uncle North was paying attention, listening to every word she said. She knew he cared about her and wanted her to be happy. He just had a little trouble showing his feelings.

Which wasn’t surprising, considering that King Grayhawk was his father, and he’d had two really bad stepmothers after Grandpa King had divorced North’s mother. Kate knew for a fact that Grandpa King didn’t listen. And he didn’t care about anyone but himself.

The situation between her parents would have been resolved long ago if her two grandfathers, King Grayhawk and Jackson Blackthorne, hadn’t been mortal enemies. But Blackjack had stolen away Eve DeWitt—the woman King loved—and married her. What made the theft so much more heinous was the fact that Blackjack never loved Eve. His heart had always belonged to another woman. He’d married Eve only for the fifty thousand acres of good DeWitt grassland in Texas she’d brought with her as a dowry. The two men had been on opposite sides of the fence ever since.

It was no wonder that when her father got her mother pregnant all those years ago, Grandpa King had taken advantage of the situation to exact revenge by forbidding them to marry.

But her parents were meant to be together like oatmeal and raisins. Like eggs and bacon. Like pancakes and syrup.

Kate realized she was hungry. Her horseback ride with Uncle North had started at daybreak, and the sun was well up. She had an hour’s drive ahead of her, to get back to her condo near UT. She was finishing her freshman year at the University of Texas at Austin, and she’d left her homework sitting when she’d come to spend the weekend on Uncle North’s ranch. Her brushstrokes came faster until her uncle lifted his head and pierced her with a look from his ice blue eyes.

“You giving that horse a good brushing?” he asked.

“Yessir.” Kate slowed her hand, but her mind was still working a mile a minute. “What if I pretended to break a leg?” she said. “That would get Mom and Daddy here in a hurry.”

“It also might make your mom take chances getting here,” North said.

Kate bit her lower lip. When she’d called and left a message that she was in trouble a year ago, her mom had caused an accident because she was driving too fast, trying to get home to help Kate. “I see what you mean,” she said. “Maybe you could tell Mom you need her help with something, and I could ask Daddy to come help me with something.”

“I manage fine by myself,” North said. “And Libby—your mom—knows it.”

Kate’s face twisted in disgust. “You could pretend—”

“No.”

The curt word sounded final. Absolutely, positively firm. Kate would get no help plotting from Uncle North, that was for sure.

“You finished?” he asked.

Kate ran her hand along the bay’s glossy back and said, “Yep.”

North slapped his horse on the rump, left the stall, and headed out of the barn without another word.

Kate chewed on her lower lip, staring at her uncle’s broad, powerful back and long legs as he strode into the sunshine. In the past, she’d been happy to rely on one of Uncle North’s miracles to accomplish the impossible. But he hadn’t seemed the least bit interested in helping her get her mother and father back together. And she knew for a fact Uncle North didn’t like the Blackthornes—which included her father—one little bit.

Kate squinted as she stepped out of the barn into the blistering Texas sun. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the light as she stared out over the grassy hills dotted with the purple remnants of April bluebonnets. There wasn’t much time before her father’s wedding—to the wrong woman. Just one month. Her mother’s—and father’s—happiness was just too important to leave to chance.

She was just going to have to come up with a miracle of her own.