Mercenary's Woman ; Outlawed!

by Diana Palmer

  “You really believe Lopez meant it when he said he was quits with Jessica?” Sally asked, still not quite convinced of the outlaw’s sincerity.

  “Yes, I do,” Eb replied, glancing at her with a smile. “He’s a snake, but his word is worth something.”

  Sally turned her head toward Eb and studied his profile warmly, with soft, covetous eyes.

  He glanced over and met that look. His own eyes narrowed. “A lot has happened since last night,” he said quietly. “Do you still mean what you told me at dawn?”

  “That I’d marry you?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Oh, yes,” she said, “I meant every word. I want to live with you all my life.”

  “It won’t bother you to have professional mercenaries running around the place at all hours for a while?” he teased.

  She grinned. “Why should it? I am, after all, a mercenary’s woman.”

  “Not quite yet,” he murmured with a wry glance. “And very soon, a mercenary’s wife.”

  “That sounds very respectable,” she commented.

  “I’m glad you waited for me, Sally,” he said seriously.

  “So am I.” She slid her hand into his big one and held on tight. It tingled all the way up her arm.

  “We’ve had enough excitement for today,” he said. “But tomorrow we’ll see about getting the license. Do you want a justice of the peace or a minister to marry us?”

  “A minister,” she said at once. “I want a permanent marriage.”

  He nodded. “So do I. And you have to have a white gown with a veil.”

  Her eyebrows arched.

  “You’re not just a mercenary’s woman, you’re a virtuous mercenary’s woman. I want to watch you float down the aisle to me covered in silk and satin and lace, and with a veil for me to lift after we’ve said our vows.”

  She smiled with her whole heart. “That would be nice. There’s a little boutique...”

  “We’ll fly up to Dallas and get one at Neiman Marcus.”

  She gasped.

  “You’re marrying a rich man,” he pointed out. “Humor me. It’s going to be a social event. Let me deck you out like a comet.”

  She laughed. “All right. I’d really love a white wedding, if you don’t mind.”

  “And we’ll both wear rings,” he added. “We’ll get those in Dallas, too.”

  Her eyes were full of dreams as she looked at her future husband hungrily. There was only one small worry. “Eb, about Maggie...”

  “Maggie is a closed chapter,” he told her. “I adored her, in my way, but she was never in love with me. I stood in Cord’s shadow even then, and she never realized it. She still hasn’t.” He glanced at her and smiled. “I love you, you know,” he murmured, watching her eyes light up. “I’d never have proposed if I hadn’t.”

  “I love you, too, Eb,” she said solemnly. “I always will.”

  His fingers curled tighter into hers. “Dreams really do come true.”

  She wouldn’t have argued with that statement to save her life, and she said so.

  * * *

  IT WAS THE society event of the year in Jacobsville, eclipsed only by Simon Hart’s wedding with the governor giving Tira away. There were no major celebrities at Eb and Sally’s wedding, but Eb did have a conglomeration of mercenaries and government agents the like of which Jacobsville had never seen. Cord Romero was sitting with Maggie on the groom’s side of the church, along with a tall, striking dark-haired man with a small mustache and neat brief beard. Beside him was a big blond man who made even Dallas look shorter. On the pew across from him, on Sally’s side of the church, was a blue-eyed brunette who avoided looking at the big blond man. Sally recognized her as Callie, the stepsister of the big blond man, who was Eb’s friend Micah Steele.

  A number of men in suits filled the rest of the groom’s pews. Some were wearing sunglasses inside. Others were watching the people on the bride’s side of the church, which wasn’t packed, since Sally hadn’t been back in Jacobsville long enough to make close friends in the community. Jessica was there with Stevie and Dallas, of course.

  Sally walked down the aisle all by herself, since she hadn’t contacted either of her parents about her wedding. They had their own lives now, and neither of them had written to Sally since the breakup of their family when she moved in with Jessica. She didn’t really mind going it alone. Somehow, under the circumstances, it even seemed appropriate. She wore a dream of a wedding gown, with yards and yards of delicate lace and a train, and a veil that accentuated her blond beauty.

  Eb stood at the altar waiting for her, in a gray vested suit with a white rose in his lapel. He turned as she joined him, and looked down at her with eyes that made her knees weak.

  The ceremony was brief, but poignant, and when Eb lifted the veil to kiss her for the first time as her husband, tears welled up in her eyes as his mouth tenderly claimed hers. They held hands going back down the aisle, wearing matching simple gold bands. Outside the church, they were pelted with rice and good wishes. Laughing, Sally tossed her bouquet and Dallas intercepted it to make sure it landed in Jessica’s hands.

  They climbed into the rented limousine and minutes later, they were at Eb’s ranch, pausing just long enough to change into traveling clothes and rush to the private airstrip to board a loaned Learjet for the trip to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, for their brief honeymoon.

  The trip was tiring, and so was the aftermath of the day’s excitement. Sally climbed into the huge whirlpool bath while Eb made dinner reservations for that evening.

  She didn’t realize that she wasn’t alone until Eb climbed down into the water with her. He chuckled at her expression and then he kissed her. Very soon, she forgot all about her shock at the first sight of her unclothed bridegroom in the joy of an embrace that knew no obstacles.

  He kissed her until she was clinging, gasping for breath and shivering with pleasure.

  “Where?” he whispered, stroking her tenderly, enjoying her reactions to her first real intimacy. “Here, or in the bed?”

  She could barely speak. “In bed,” she said huskily.

  “That suits me.”

  He got out and turned off the jets, lifting her clear of the water to towel them both dry. He picked her up and carried her quickly into the bedroom, barely taking time to strip down the covers before he fell with her onto crisp, clean sheets.

  She knew that first times were notoriously painful, embarrassing, and uncomfortable, but hers was a notable exception. Eb was skillful and slow, arousing her to a hot frenzy of response before he even began to touch her intimately. By the time his body slid down against hers in stark possession, she was lifting toward him and pleading for an end to the violent tension of pleasure he’d aroused in her.

  Her breath jerked out at his ear at the slow, steady invasion of her most private place in a silence that magnified the least little sound. She heard his heartbeat, and her own, increase with every careful thrust of his hips. She heard his breathing, erratic, rough, mingling with her own excited little moans.

  She felt one lean hand sliding up her bare leg as he turned and shifted his weight against her, and when he touched her high on her inner thigh in a rhythm like the descent of his body, she arched up toward him and groaned in anguish.

  He laughed softly at her temple while he increased the rhythm and caressed her in the most outrageous ways, all the while whispering things so shocking that she gasped. Tossed between waves of pleasure that grew with each passing second, she found herself suddenly suspended somewhere high above reality as she went over some intangible cliff and fell shuddering with ecstasy into a white-hot oblivion.

  She felt him there with her, felt his pleasure in her body, felt his own release even as hers threatened to last forever. She wondered dimly if she was going to survive the incredible delight of it. She shivered help
lessly as pleasure washed over her and she clung harder to the source of it, pleading for him not to stop.

  When she was finally exhausted and barely able to catch her breath, he tucked her close in his arms and pulled the sheet over them.

  “Sleep now,” he whispered, kissing her forehead.

  “Like this?” she asked unsteadily.

  “Just like this.” He wrapped her closer. “We’ll sleep a little. And then...”

  “And then.”

  The dinner reservations went unclaimed. Through the long night, she learned more than she’d ever dreamed about men and bodies and lovemaking. For a first time, she told her delighted husband, it was quite extraordinary.

  They had breakfast in bed and then set out to explore the old city. But by evening, they were exploring each other again.

  * * *

  A WEEK LATER, they arrived back home at Eb’s ranch, to find a flurry of new activity. A local undercover DEA agent, whose wife Lisa Monroe lived on a ranch next door to Cy Parks, had been found murdered. Apparently he’d infiltrated Lopez’s organization and been discovered. Rodrigo was still undercover, and Eb was concerned for him. The warehouse next door to Cy was in the final stages of construction. Things were heating up in Jacobsville.

  “At least we had a honeymoon,” Eb murmured dryly, hugging his new wife close.

  “So we did,” she agreed. She looked up at him lovingly. “And now you’re back off adventuring.”

  “Well, so are you,” he pointed out. “After all, isn’t teaching second-graders a daily adventure as well?”

  She hugged him close. “Being married to you is the biggest adventure, but you have to promise not to ever get shot at again.”

  “I give you my word as a Girl Scout,” he murmured dryly.

  She punched him in the stomach. “And if you wade into battle, I’ll be right there beside you holding spare cartridges.”

  He searched her eyes. “You really are a hell of a woman,” he murmured.

  She grinned. “I’m glad you noticed.”

  “Lucky me,” he said only half facetiously, and bent to kiss her with unbridled passion. “Lucky, lucky me!” he added while he could manage speech.

  Sally wrapped her arms around him and held on tight, as intoxicated with pleasure as he was. There would always be the threat of danger, but nothing that the mercenary and his woman couldn’t handle. But for the moment, she had her soldier of fortune right where she wanted him—in her gentle, loving arms.

  * * *

  His Secret Child

  Lee Tobin McClain

  Books by Lee Tobin McClain

  HQN Books

  Safe Haven

  Low Country Hero

  Love Inspired

  Redemption Ranch

  The Soldier’s Redemption

  The Twins’ Family Christmas

  Rescue River

  Engaged to the Single Mom

  His Secret Child

  Small-Town Nanny

  The Soldier and the Single Mom

  The Soldier’s Secret Child

  A Family for Easter

  Christmas Twins

  Secret Christmas Twins

  Lone Star Cowboy League: Boys Ranch

  The Nanny’s Texas Christmas

  Don’t miss Low Country Dreams, the next book in the Safe Haven series from HQN!

  Then he said to them, “Whoever welcomes this little child in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. For it is the one who is least among you all who is the greatest.”

  —Luke 9:48

  For my daughter, Grace

  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

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  FERN EASTON LOOKED at the fire she’d just built, then out the window at the driving snow, dim in the late-afternoon light. She shivered, but not because she was cold.

  No, she was happy.

  Two whole weeks to herself. Two whole weeks to work on her children’s book in blessed peace.

  As soon as she’d gotten home from the library, she’d shucked her sensible slacks and professional shirt and let her hair out of its usual tidy bun. Threw on her softest jeans and a comfortable fleece top. Next, she’d set up her drawing table in the living room of her friends’ house.

  House-sitting was awesome, because out here on the farm, no one would bother her.

  Out here, she had a chance to fulfill her dream.

  From the back room, her four-year-old daughter crowed with laughter over the antics of the animated mice and squirrels on the TV screen. Her daughter. Some days, Fern couldn’t believe her good fortune.

  She’d fed Bull, the ancient, three-legged bulldog she was babysitting as a part of the house-sitting deal. Puttering around like this, feeding an animal, taking care of her sweet child, was what she wanted, and determination rose in her to make it happen full-time.

  She’d create a fantasy world with her books, and in her life, too. She wouldn’t have to deal with the public or trust people who’d inevitably let her down. She wouldn’t have to come out of her shell, listen to people telling her to smile and speak up. She wasn’t really shy, she was just quiet, because there was a whole world in her head that needed attention and expression. And now, for two weeks, she got to live in that world, with a wonderful little girl and a loving old dog to keep her company.

  She practically rubbed her hands together with glee as she poured herself a cup of herbal tea and headed toward her paints.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  She jerked at the unexpected sound, and worry flashed through her.

  “Hey, Angie, I know you’re in there!”

  Fern felt her nose wrinkle with distaste. Some friend of the homeowners. Some male friend. Should she answer it?

  More knocking, another shout.

  Yeah, she had to answer. Anyone who’d driven all the way out here in a snowstorm deserved at least a polite word from her before she sent them away.

  She opened the door to a giant.

  He wore a heavy jacket and cargo pants. His face was made of hard lines and planes, only partly masked by heavy stubble. Intense, unsmiling, bloodshot eyes stared her down. “Who are you?”

  Whoa! She took a step backward and was about to slam the door in this unkempt muscleman’s face—she had her daughter’s safety to think about, as well as her own—when Bull, the dog, launched his barrel-shaped body at the door, barking joyously, his stub of a tail wagging.

  “Hey, old guy, you’re getting around pretty good!” The man opened the door, leaned down.

  “Hey!” Fern stepped back, then put her hands on her hips. “You can’t come in here!”

  The guy didn’t listen; he was squatting down just inside the door to pet the thrilled bulldog.

  Fern’s heart pounded as she realized just how isolated she was. Never taking her eyes off him, she backed over to her phone and turned it on.

  “Where’s Troy and Angelica?” The man looked up at her. “And who’re you?” His voice was raspy. Dark lines under his eyes.

  “Who are you?”

  He cocked his head to one side, frowning. “I’m Carlo. Angie’s brother?”

  Her jaw about dropped, because she’d heard the stories. “You’re the missionary soldier guy!” She set her phone back down. “Really? What are you doing here?”

  His eyes g
rew hooded. “Got some business to conduct here in the States. And I’m sick.”

  “Oh.” She studied him. Maybe illness was the reason for his disheveled look.

  “Your turn. Who are you? You supposed to be here?”

  “My name’s Fern. I’m house-sitting.”

  “Okay.” He nodded and flashed an unexpected smile. “I didn’t think you looked real dangerous.”

  The appeal of a smile on that rugged face left Fern momentarily speechless, warming her heart toward the big man.

  “Thought I could bed down with my sister and get myself together before I get started with my...legal work. Where is she?”

  “She’s at Disneyland Paris.” She said it reluctantly. “For two weeks.”

  “She’s in Paris?” His face fell. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

  She studied him. “Didn’t you think to, like, call and check with her? When did you last talk?”

  “It’s been months. I don’t...live a normal life. And like I said, I’ve been sick.” He swayed slightly and unzipped his jacket. “Still have a little fever, but it’s not catching.”

  “Hey. You don’t look so good.” In fact, he looked as though he was going to pass out, and then how would she ever get him out of here? She took his arm gingerly and guided him toward the couch. “You’d better sit down.” She helped him out of his heavy, hooded, military-style jacket.

  “I don’t want to bother you...” He swayed again and sat down abruptly.

  So now she had some giant guy who claimed to be Angelica’s brother, smack dab in the middle of her living room. She studied him skeptically as she picked up her phone again. Dark gray sweater that didn’t look any too new, heavy combat boots melting snow on the floor. Hmm.

  Could he be acting this whole thing out in order to get in here and...what? Steal everything Troy and Angelica had? They were plenty comfortable, as evidenced by the Euro-Disney vacation, but they didn’t put their money on display in expensive possessions, at least as far as she’d been able to tell in the few months she’d known Angelica.