The Fake Husband

The Fake Husband
Lynnette Kent

Mr. Archer does not existJacquie Archer has a secret. But now she has to come clean–she never had a husband. She made him up as a cover for the biggest mistake of her life–her affair with Rhys Lewellyn. Although that mistake gave her the greatest gift she's ever received–her daughter, Erin–now Jacquie is facing the huge challenge of trying to put things right with her daughter, her family and her friends.Will Erin forgive her, especially after she finds out who her father really is? Jacquie has no choice but to find out….

“I think we need to cut to the chase.”

Folding his arms along the edge of the table, Rhys leaned closer and held Jacquie’s gaze by sheer force of will. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I am sure I’m tired of playing games. Why are we here, Jacquie? What do you have to say to me?”

She drew a deep breath. “You asked me why I left without saying anything.”

“Yes.”

“Well, there is no husband. I invented him because I couldn’t come home as an unwed mother with an illegitimate child.”

Setting down her coffee, Jacquie looked Rhys straight in the eyes. “Your child, Rhys. My daughter, Erin Elizabeth Archer, is your child. The only proof you’ll need is a single glance at her beautiful face.”

Dear Reader,

I taught myself to ride a horse when I was in junior high school…with a scarf looped around the bedpost, me mounted on the footboard and a volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica open on the mattress for instruction. Yes, I really was that crazy about horses. But in time I grew up, gained a husband and children and let the horse dreams fade.

Then my younger daughter, aged twelve, began pestering me to go riding with her friends. I’m not quite sure how it happened, but now we own four horses and spend most of our time outside school hours “at the barn.”

The Fake Husband is a story about people who love horses. Jacquie Archer and Rhys Lewellyn are brought together the first time by their competitive equestrian careers. And when all-too-human concerns tear them apart, it's the horses—and one very special child—that bring them together again. I think the nobility of the horse draws out the best in us humans, and I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with people who respond to that call. I hope you'll do the same.

Happy reading!

Lynnette Kent

lynnette@lynnettekent.com

or PMB 304

Westwood Shopping Center

Fayetteville, NC 28314

The Fake Husband

Lynnette Kent

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

To the friends I’ve found “at the barn”

Kelly and C.J., Kim, Beth, Karen and Julie and Kelly K. and Laura, Dr. Garrett and Dr. Brian

Your laughter, your tears and your teaching will always be with me.

CONTENTS

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 ONE

RHYS LEWELLYN ARRIVED in the “sunny South” on New Year’s Day, just in time for the worst snowstorm to hit North Carolina in eighty years.

“Damn snow wasn’t supposed to reach this far till tomorrow,” he growled, switching the windshield wipers to maximum speed. “And we should have been here two days ago.”

“Two flat tires and five horses make for slow traveling.” Coming from the back seat, Terry O’Neal’s brogue was as thick as the day he left Ireland thirty years ago.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Rhys shifted his weight from hipbone to hipbone and flicked the switch for the seat heater to high. The escalating ache in his back measured exactly how much effort he’d put into this trip and how much stress he’d undertaken.

“All right, then.” Terry rattled the map. “Your turn’s coming up on the left.”

“Thank God.” A glance toward the passenger side showed his son’s posture unchanged, head turned to look out the window at the white blanket shrouding trees and road alike. No sign of interest, or fatigue, or anything remotely resembling enthusiasm had slipped through Andrew’s guard since leaving New York. He might as well have declared himself a hostage.

Perhaps he was—a hostage to his father’s failure.

For now, though, the struggle was not father against son but man against nature. Rhys eased his foot onto the brake and felt the tires skid.

“There has to be six inches of snow on this road, over a layer of ice. Have these people ever heard of snowplows?” With the weight of the trailer behind him, he needed all the traction he could get—which appeared to be none, as the truck continued to slide despite antilock brakes and four-wheel drive.