Always a McBride Read online

  Because of Gus McBride, he’d had nothing.

  No father, no grandparents on either side. No one to chase away the monsters in his closet, no dad to teach him to fish. No knowledge of where he came from or where he was going.

  His mother had tried to step up and fill the role of both parents, and she’d done a damn good job. But she’d needed a husband, and he’d needed a father. They’d had neither. Because Gus McBride had been halfway across the country, protecting his real family.

  And Taylor would bet that his legitimate children weren’t scared at night growing up. They didn’t worry about paying the bills or having enough money. Growing up, they’d had it all. Taylor wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d thought their daddy was a saint.

  He wasn’t. Unfortunately, they’d never know that.

  Unless he told them.

  Dear Reader,

  The days are hot and the reading is hotter here at Silhouette Intimate Moments. Linda Turner is back with the next of THOSE MARRYING MCBRIDES! in Always a McBride. Taylor Bishop has only just found out about his familial connection—and he has no idea it’s going to lead him straight to love.

  In Shooting Starr, Kathleen Creighton ratchets up both the suspense and the romance in a story of torn loyalties you’ll long remember. Carla Cassidy returns to CHEROKEE CORNERS in Last Seen…, a novel about two people whose circumstances ought to prevent them from falling in love but don’t. On Dean’s Watch is the latest from reader favorite Linda Winstead Jones, and it will keep you turning the pages as her federal marshal hero falls hard for the woman he’s supposed to be keeping an undercover watch over. Roses After Midnight, by Linda Randall Wisdom, is a suspenseful look at the hunt for a serial rapist—and the blossoming of an unexpected romance. Finally, take a look at Debra Cowan’s Burning Love and watch passion flare to life between a female arson investigator and the handsome cop who may be her prime suspect.

  Enjoy them all—and come back next month for more of the best and most exciting romance reading around.

  Yours,

  Leslie J. Wainger

  Executive Editor

  Always a McBride

  LINDA TURNER

  Books by Linda Turner

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

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  Crosscurrents #263

  An Unsuspecting Heart #298

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  The Love of Dugan Magee #448

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  *Cooper #553

  *Flynn #572

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  Who’s the Boss? #649

  The Loner #673

  Maddy Lawrence’s Big Adventure #709

  The Lady in Red #763

  †I’m Having Your Baby?! #799

  †A Marriage-Minded Man? #829

  †The Proposal #847

  †Christmas Lone-Star Style #895

  **The Lady’s Man #931

  **A Ranching Man #992

  **The Best Man #1010

  **Never Been Kissed #1051

  The Enemy’s Daughter #1064

  The Man Who Would Be King #1124

  **Always a McBride #1231

  Silhouette Desire

  A Glimpse of Heaven #220

  Wild Texas Rose #653

  Philly and the Playboy #701

  The Seducer #802

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  Silhouette Special Edition

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  Silhouette Books

  Silhouette Christmas Kisses 1996

  “A Wild West Christmas”

  Fortune’s Children

  The Wolf and the Dove

  A Fortune’s Children Christmas 2002

  “The Christmas Child”

  Crowned Hearts 2002

  “Royally Pregnant”

  A Colton Family Christmas 2002

  “Take No Prisoners”

  Under Western Skies 2002

  “Marriage on the Menu”

  The Coltons

  The Virgin Mistress

  LINDA TURNER

  began reading romances in high school and began writing them one night when she had nothing else to read. She’s been writing ever since. Single, and living in Texas, she travels every chance she gets, scouting locales for her books.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  He was a bastard.

  Even before he’d been old enough to understand the meaning of the word, Taylor Bishop had known what he was. There was, after all, no avoiding the truth in the poverty-ridden neighborhoods of San Diego where he’d grown up. Dozens of kids were running around the street without fathers, and like recognized like.

  Still, he hadn’t understood the implications of the label until he was six and one of his school friends told him his mother must be a slut—otherwise his father would have married her. Outraged, his six-year-old pride stung, he’d defended his mother’s virtue and his absent father’s honor by punching his friend in the nose. All his bravery earned him was a split lip.

  That was the day he’d begun to hate his father.

  Thirty-five years had passed since then, and nothing had changed. He still hated his father…and he didn’t even know his name.

  That, however, was about to change.

  Seated at his mother’s kitchen table, her personal effects spread out around him in the small home she’d finally managed to buy after scrimping and saving for years, Taylor stared down at the sealed letter she’d left for him in her safety deposit box and knew without even opening what it said. After all this time, when it was too late for him to ask her any questions, she was finally going to tell him about his father.

  “He’s a good man. That’s all you need to know.”

  Every time he’d asked his mother about the mysterious stranger who had sired him, the answer had always been the same. She’d promised to tell him the whole story one day, but she never had. Why? he wondered, scowling at the letter addressed to him in her neat handwriting. Had she thought that he would think less of her because he was obviously illegitimate? That he somehow blamed her for the fact that his father had been nonexistent in his life? Surely she had to know better.

  For a moment, pain squeezed his heart at the thought that she might not have known how much he loved and admired her, but with a muttered curse, he quickly shook off his doubts. What the hell was he doing? Of course she’d known how he felt about her. As far as he was concerned, she’d been the best mother in the world. She was the one who’d been there for him as a child, the one who’d worked two jobs so that he could have the things he needed when he was growing up. Yes, money had been tight, but she’d done the best that she could, and he couldn’t fault her for that. She’d been a single mother with no one to help her. When she lost her job at one of the local hotels because she refused to work nights and leave him home alone, she’d had to go on welfare for a while just so they could eat. Still, she’d held her head high and made sure he did, too. And as soon as she’d been able to find another job, she went off government assistance because, she’d claimed, there were poor people out there who needed it more than they did.

  How could anyone not love a mother like that? He’d adored her. She taught him to be proud of who he was, to work honestly for what he wanted, to believe in himself and the future. Those things would get him through l
ife, she’d claimed, not his father’s name.

  So why was she telling him now? he wondered with a frown. When she’d died unexpectedly last week of an apparent heart attack, the last thing he’d been worried about was his father’s name. She was the one he loved, the one he cared about, and he would have gladly given up any chance of ever knowing anything about his father if he could have just had his mother back for five minutes.

  That, however, was impossible. All he had left of her were her things…and a letter that had the power to change his life. His square-cut face carved in grim lines, he was half tempted to trash the thing, but it was the last communication from his mother. For no other reason than that, he had to read it. Reaching for it, he tore it open and began to read.

  To my dear son,

  You’ll never know how much I love you. You’ve been the greatest joy of my life, a blessing I thanked God for every day. I know how difficult it was for you, growing up without your father, and I’m sorry for that. But your father wasn’t the unfeeling monster you think he was, dear. He was a good man who had no idea you even existed. His name is Gus McBride, and when we met, he lived in Liberty Hill, Colorado.

  We met in Cheyenne, Wyoming, when I was there one summer visiting my grandmother. I never believed in love at first sight until I met him. He was in town for a rodeo and we had one wonderful night together. That was all, dear. Just one night. I fell in love with him, but please don’t blame him because he didn’t return my feelings. He was still in love with the girlfriend he had broken up with the month before. She was all he talked about, but I foolishly thought I could make him fall in love with me. I was wrong. When he left town the next morning, he probably went back to her.

  Two weeks later, I returned to my parents’ house in San Diego. A month later, I discovered I was pregnant. You must understand, dear, that times were different then. My pregnancy was scandalous to my parents, and their main concern was that I get married as soon as possible. They didn’t care that Gus didn’t love me. All they wanted was his name so they could force him to marry me. They didn’t understand that if he’d known I was pregnant, they wouldn’t have had to say a word to him—he would have insisted on marrying me. He was that kind of man. And if he’d loved me, I would have agreed. But he didn’t, so I kept his name to myself—which is why your grandparents disowned me.

  Please don’t feel sorry for me…or hate them, Taylor, dear. If I could have turned back the clock and done things differently, I wouldn’t have. The night I had with your father was magical, and you were his gift to me. I never regretted it. It’s important that you know that. You and I had a wonderful life together. When you remember me, remember that.

  Love,

  Mother

  Grief squeezing his heart, Taylor sent up a silent prayer, asking her to forgive him for not respecting her final wish. He couldn’t. Because in spite of the love he and his mother had shared, when he thought of her, it was the hardness of her life he remembered. And Gus McBride of Liberty Hill, Colorado, was responsible for that, he thought grimly. Somehow, some way, he was going to make him pay for that.

  Chapter 1

  “Hi, sweetie. Did I catch you getting ready for a date? What’s the name of that boy you’re going with? Micah? Mick? I never can remember. When’s he going to wise up and ask you to marry him? I told your mother three years ago that he was too slow for you, but she thought he was the greatest thing since sliced bread.”

  Grinning, Phoebe Chandler had to laugh at her grandmother’s disgusted tone, obvious even over the phone. Myrtle had never been one to keep her opinions to herself—which was one of the things Phoebe loved about her. “His name is Marshall, Gran, and we quit dating six months ago. Didn’t I tell you?”

  “Oh, of course,” she said. “Now I remember. He was more interested in what your daddy left you than you. That’s another thing I didn’t like about him. He had dollar signs in his eyes.”

  Phoebe couldn’t argue with that. She hadn’t cared much for that particular trait of Marshall’s, either. Luckily, her eyesight was as good as her grandmother’s. “I sent him packing when he tried to borrow money from me. So what’s going on? Mom said you were going on a trip with some old high-school friends.”

  Myrtle laughed gaily. “And here I thought everyone but me and Sara McBride were dead. By the way, I wish she was here. She’d love seeing the old gang again.”

  “When will she be back from her honeymoon?”

  “Oh, not for another couple of weeks, at least. Longer, if they decide to take that cruise up the west coast to Alaska.”

  “So when’s the trip? You are going, aren’t you?”

  “You know me, sweetie,” she chuckled. “My bags are always packed. There’s just a teensy problem….”

  “Your antique store,” Phoebe guessed with a smile. “You need someone to run it while you’re gone.”

  “Well, yes,” she admitted, “but there’s another problem. I haven’t had any boarders the last month, so I decided to turn the house into a bed and breakfast. I placed an ad in some travel magazines and I’ve got some reservations for the next couple of weeks.”

  “You’re kidding! Gran, that’s great!”

  She chuckled ruefully. “It would be if I didn’t want to go on this trip. I can’t be two places at once. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do, then I remembered you always take the month of June off. How would you like to come to Liberty Hill and run my B and B for me?”

  Phoebe didn’t even have to think twice. “I’d love it!”

  “Are you sure?” her grandmother asked worriedly. “You probably had plans—”

  “I was just going to paint the house. I can do that anytime.”

  “What about the business? I don’t want to put you in a bind just so I can run off with friends, sweetie. I can come up with a reason to cancel the reservations, if necessary…or stay home, for that matter. The world’s not going to end if I don’t get to go on this trip.”

  “No, but you want to go, and why shouldn’t you? You’ll have a great time. Call your friend back and tell her you’re going. I’ll handle things while you’re gone.”

  “But who’ll take care of your business while you’re playing innkeeper for me? You deal with a lot of cash, honey. Do you really want to trust that to someone else?”

  “Jason’s going to work with me again this summer,” Phoebe replied. “Dad always said not to let the business get so big that I couldn’t handle it myself, but Jason’s a good kid. And he’s family. He won’t steal from me.”

  Jason Chandler, her second cousin, was a high-school senior who had worked not only for her in past summers, but for her grandmother, as well. Honest and hard-working, he was saving his money for college and planned to be a doctor. It would never cross his mind to take anything that didn’t belong to him.

  Across the phone line, Myrtle sighed in relief. “Oh, well, if it’s Jason, you don’t have anything to worry about. He’ll make sure every penny is accounted for.”

  “So when do I need to be there?”

  “June eighth,” her grandmother said promptly. “This is going to be so much fun, sweetheart—for both of us! You’re going to love the guests who’ll be coming in in a couple of weeks. They’re newlyweds from Florida. They’ll both be eighty in July.”

  “Eighty!”

  “I know,” she chuckled. “I was surprised, too, when I talked to the bride on the phone. I would have sworn she was at least thirty years younger.”

  “I guess that’s what love does to you,” Phoebe said with a smile. “It certainly agrees with Sara McBride. Who knows, Gran?” she teased. “Maybe your turn’s next. You might find yourself a man on your trip.”

  Her grandmother laughed gaily. “When the cow jumps over the moon, sweetheart. I’ve had the love of a good man—nothing beats it. Now it’s your turn.”

  If only that were true, Phoebe thought wistfully. She loved being in love. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world…until you
came back to earth with a jolt and realized that the man you thought was the love of your life really wasn’t Prince Charming at all. He was just a rat who knew how to say all the right things. She’d had too many run-ins with too many rats to believe in happily ever after anymore.

  “Thanks, Gran, but I think I’ll pass. All the good men are taken and I’m not interested in the dregs that are left.”

  “After Marshall turned out to be such a jerk, I can’t blame you for thinking that, sweetheart, but don’t give up. The world is full of good men. You just haven’t met one yet. But your turn’s coming. There’s someone special for you out there and he’s going to walk into your life when you least expect it.”

  Phoebe sincerely doubted that, but she knew better than to argue with her grandmother. Myrtle was an eternal optimist…and usually right. “I’ll keep my eyes open,” she said with a grin, “but how am I going to meet anyone when you’ve got all these newlyweds coming in to stay at the house? It’s not as if we’re going to get any walk-in trade. Liberty Hill’s not even on the map.”

  It was, of course, but she loved teasing Myrtle about how remote the place was. Liberty Hill was hardly more than a wide spot in the road and a thousand miles from nowhere, yet Myrtle still managed to find her share of guests and boarders, not to mention customers for her very successful antique store right next door to her house. Phoebe didn’t know how she did it.

  “That’s all right,” her grandmother chuckled, refusing to rise to the bait, “go ahead and tease me. Liberty Hill might be little, but that just makes it easier for Mr. Right to find you, honey. So when can I expect you? You’re going to be engaged by the end of the year, so there’s no time to waste. Your mother will have a conniption if you even think about marrying someone you’ve known less than six months.”