Sleigh Ride to Love
Sleigh Ride to Love
Alaska and the Iditarod, the last great race on earth, testing men, women, and dogs alike. Holly James stepped up to the plate to take her place in the race as a memorial to her late father. But Obstetrician Zachariah Black thought her foolish in the extreme, commenting that she didn’t have the courage or the stamina to survive the hardships and rigours of the journey. Angry at his lack of confidence in her, Holly was determined to show him! One night of sex and he thought he knew her—well, he had no idea who she was or how she felt. Resolute, she ignored his unwanted and unasked for advice and set off determined to, if not win, at least finish the race.
However, Holly is dogged by bad luck and not long into the contest disaster strikes. Zachariah is forced to come to her aid and in order for her to continue with the race becomes her reluctant travelling companion.
Clashing swords at every opportunity, they kept an armed truce interspersed with moments of sizzling passion. But what of love? Holly had loved Zachariah from the moment they had met, when she was a naive sixteen year old and he’d been a serious, married twenty nine year old. Now widowed, was Zachariah ready to love again, and if so, would he choose her or the sultry Astrid Buchannan?
Genre: Contemporary
Length: 52,648 words
SLEIGH RIDE TO LOVE
Rosemary J. Anderson
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
SLEIGH RIDE TO LOVE
Copyright © 2014 by Rosemary J. Anderson
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63258-181-5
First E-book Publication: August 2014
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
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www.SirenPublishing.com
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DEDICATION
For my mum.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
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
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
About the Author
SLEIGH RIDE TO LOVE
ROSEMARY J. ANDERSON
Copyright © 2014
Chapter One
Anchorage! And the weather was freezing. Holly shivered in the slight breeze that had sprung up almost out of nowhere. The sky was white indicating more snow was on its way and her brow furrowed with anxiety. The opening ceremony of the Iditarod had gone well, and in the morning the race itself would start and she hoped above all else that the snow would stay away at least for a while. Feeling the wind rise to biting point she tucked her hands into her pockets and headed back toward the inn.
Inside was warm, the glow from the fire welcoming. Pushing back the hood of her arctic weather coat, she looked around. The place was full to bursting with mushers, their support teams, the media, and those who were merely curious. Smiling at the people she knew and nodding at those with whom she had only an acquaintance, she wondered with a feeling of nervous excitement, where he was? Biting her lip, her gaze darting around, she moved further into the room, unzipping her coat as she went. It was odd she hadn’t yet come across him, surely he was here? She’d never known him to miss a competition, not in the last nine years anyway. There were sixty-five teams, a considerable number but not so large as to be able to hide in. And anyway why would he hide?
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t little Holly James. I take it you’re stepping into your father’s shoes this year and attempting the Iditarod?”
Holly’s heart sank at the smug tones, and looking up at the tall woman that had sidled up to her she stared into the haughty, arrogant face of Astrid Buchannan. Astrid was a beautiful woman, tall and elegant with a gorgeous array of auburn hair that flowed softly around her heart-shaped face. A seasoned musher, she had been coming to the Iditarod for the last seven years. She was a confident competitor, and she was also a thorn in Holly’s side. Astrid was a woman who knew what she wanted and was determined to get it whatever the cost, and Holly knew, she wanted Zachariah Black.
“Astrid, how nice.” Holly’s tone was sugary sweet. “What can I do for you?”
“You do something for me?” Astrid laughed scornfully. “There’s nothing in this world you could possibly do for me except, perhaps, go back home.”
“Go home? Why would I do that?” Holly�
��s stance changed, becoming defensive.
“Well, there’s nothing worse than being somewhere you’re not wanted, and believe me, Holly, you are not wanted here, not by me and not by Zachariah. Oh, I know that you think that perhaps you can take up where you left off with him, but you can’t, he’s mine so don’t you forget it.” Flicking back her hair she looked scornfully down at Holly, who even with heels on reached no further than Astrid’s shoulder.
Reveling in the shock clearly written on Holly’s face, Astrid smiled, knowing the barb had hit home. “Oh really, Holly, did you think I didn’t know about the roll in the sack he gave you last year? Although looking at you, I can’t even begin to see what it was about you that made him act so—desperately.” She gave a small moue of distaste. “And how extremely foolish of you to suppose Zachariah kept it a secret. In fact he couldn’t wait to confide in me. He said he regretted taking your innocence and that he should have called a halt as soon as he realized, but that you were crying and wantonly insisting he continue.” Thrusting her face closer to Holly’s, Astrid became more aggressive. “Wasn’t it bad enough he’d lost his wife? You had to go and ensure he lost his self-respect as well. Tsk, tsk, Holly, you sure know how to bring a man to his knees.”
Anger, shame, and hatred all vied for a place in Holly’s emotions as she listened to Astrid’s diatribe. How dare Zachariah discuss her so? She could hardly believe it of him, but how else would Astrid have known about their one-night stand? Although ashamed and embarrassed, she couldn’t, wouldn’t let the other woman know she’d got to her. She had her pride even if she had nothing else.
“Astrid, how very fixated you are, letting something as unimportant as me having sex with Zachariah eat away at you like that. I can see that the fact Zachariah and I slept together has kept you awake at night, filling you with envy, and filling you with rage. And why? Because even although you say he’s yours, you and I both know he’s not. Zachariah is his own man and belongs to no one, least of all you. So put that in your pipe and smoke it, you—you scurrilous old hag!”
During Holly’s tirade Astrid’s face had grown redder and her emerald eyes flashed her anger. “You little bitch, just you wait, you’ll pay for that remark.” Astrid hissed, stomping off in the direction of the bar. Anger that Holly had beaten her at her own game didn’t sit well with her and she seethed in frustration. How dare the little upstart talk to her like that? Well, she’d show her. Given the opportunity she’d get her revenge and one way or another, she’d make Holly pay. It was almost two years since his wife’s death so Zachariah’s initial grief would surely be lessened by now, and he would be ready for a relationship with a real woman, and she intended for it to be her, not that little scrap of a child. No way!
Watching Astrid leave, her back as straight as a rod, Holly, feeling a little like a well-wrung-out rag, breathed a sigh of relief. She hated clashing swords with the other woman, and more than anything, she hated that Astrid had brought her down to her level, trading insults the way she had. Throwing herself into her chair, she caught the eye of a waiter and ordered a hot chocolate with added whipped cream. Greedy? Maybe, but it would be quite a few days before she had the chance of another, and anyway, she justified, she was going to need the calories.
Cozying up in a comfy chair by the fire, Holly held out her hands toward the flames. Feeling the heat seep into her bones, she forgot the contretemps with Astrid and looked around. The inn was small and homely with only sixty bedrooms upstairs, and a ground floor that was open plan. A wide, highly polished wooden staircase that led directly from the lounge, with a bar and restaurant on one side and a cozy seating area by the fire on the other, weaved its way up from the middle of the room. But the décor—Holly grimaced—was very old-fashioned, faded red-patterned carpets and glass chandeliers. Tonight the place was teeming, and conversation hummed. And in expectation of the race to come, an underlying excitement had taken hold of the mushers, mixed of course with a certain amount of apprehension.
Sipping her chocolate, feeling relaxed but somehow melancholy Holly rested her head back against the chair. Her dad should be here, waiting for the race to start, enjoying chatting with old friends, and indulging in gentle ribbing. She felt the tears well into her eyes.
“You made it then.”
Startled she looked up into familiar deep brown eyes, eyes that had always looked at her with such scorn in their depths, the eyes of Zachariah Black.
Blinking rapidly to dispel the tears, Holly placed her mug on the small table beside her, playing for time.
“Yes, did you think I wouldn’t?”
Shrugging broad shoulders, he lowered himself into the chair opposite.
“Maybe.”
“Still a man of few words I see.”
Raising a satanic eyebrow, Zachariah leant comfortably back and stared at her, a stare she felt could see down to her very soul. Zachariah Black was an attractive man, broad of shoulder and slim of hip. His deep brown eyes reminded her of dark chocolate framed by luxurious curling eyelashes, and his jaw was chiseled, indicating, she knew, a determined streak. Her gaze wandered. His muscular arms were perfect, not beefy but strong and his hands, she gave a small shiver of delight, were…
Shifting uncomfortably she sought around for something to say that would break the uncomfortable silence, uncomfortable on her part anyway.
“I was sorry to hear about your father, Holly. He was a good man and to die like that in his garden digging potatoes, when he’d led such an adventurous life.” He shook his head.
Holly felt a surge of grief. His words made her chest feel as if a rock was embedded where her heart should be.
“It was his heart, the doctors said, but at least it was quick, he would have hated to linger on, lying in bed an invalid.” Holly swallowed hard, determined not to break down in front of Zachariah.
Her grief was almost tangible in the silence, but Zachariah hardened his heart to her obvious sorrow. Now was not the time to sympathize, now was the time to make her see sense and change her mind about the race.
“So you thought that as your father was no longer with us, you’d take up the reins so to speak and come out here on a fool’s expedition to play around at trying your hand at the Iditarod.”
Shocked and a little disappointed by his lack of sympathy, Holly silently counted to ten before she spoke.
“There’s nothing foolish about it, Zachariah. My dad taught me everything he knew, and I’ve been out here supporting him year after year. You know that. So why the sarcasm? You’re fully aware that he always expected me to carry on where he left off, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. I’m well qualified and quite able, so you can put that in your superior, chauvinistic pipe and smoke it!”
Pushing herself up and out of the chair, Holly sent him a filthy look and, tossing her head, stomped rapidly away from him.
Watching her angry back, Zachariah, couldn’t help but admire her petite proportions. A five-foot-two veritable virago with chestnut hair falling in a riot of waves down to her tiny waist, slim and full breasted, she was every healthy male’s dream. But, he sighed, she was a real pill, argumentative, stubborn and as fiery as hell, and he was worried. The rigors of the competition tested even the strongest of men. Nearly one thousand miles of wild, perilous terrain, freezing weather and dangers untold, how would she cope? Admittedly she had been trained by the best, her father, but she was still untried and untested, a true rookie.
Watching her stomp her way up the stairs, Zachariah smiled. Every step she took showed her outrage. Outrage that anyone, let alone him, would take her to task for her decision to compete in the Iditarod. His smile faded and his face softened. She was so brave, undertaking such an event when her heart was still breaking. She had been so close to her father, having lost her mother when she was born, but her father had been a difficult man to please, and although Holly tried she could never make up for not being the son he’d always wanted. And as for himself, they had always had a love
-hate relationship, with Holly never quite making up her mind whether to hate him one minute or love him the next. Except on that one night.
He sighed, that night she had been…He briefly closed his eyes, attempting to put it into words. That night had been almost perfect. Holly had been amazing, willing, exciting, and yes, caring.
* * * *
Holly’s clenched fists signified her rage. She was absolutely livid. How dare he? How dare Zachariah presume she wasn’t taking this race seriously? Play around indeed! She wanted to scream in frustration. How dare he? The supercilious, arrogant, obnoxious…
She ground her teeth, running out of adjectives to call him. Opening the door to her room and giving vent to all those pent-up emotions Zachariah invariably stirred up, Holly slammed it as hard as she could behind her.
A hot soak in the tub helped, relaxing tightened muscles and releasing tensions. Holly wallowed in its deep foamy depths, acknowledging that for the next ten days this was probably the last time she would feel really clean. Blowing clouds of perfumed foam off her hand into the air she absently wondered what Zachariah was doing? She wondered a trifle naughtily if like her, he was lying naked in a tub filled with silky, sensuous warm water? She sighed. It was no good thinking about him in that way. She had to forget their previous sexual encounter and treat him as a fellow competitor, a friend—she snorted in derision—or even just an acquaintance. But never a lover, because after the way he had acted earlier he obviously didn’t see her as anything other than a nuisance. She pursed her lips. She needed to get Zachariah out of her head and out of her hair.