by Amy Sandas
When Alex dismounted, her clothes shifted over her wound, making her suck in a swift breath at the burning pain.
“Christ, Alex, you were shot.”
Malcolm was beside her in an instant, scooping her into his arms and carrying her to where he could set her down with her back resting against a rocky outcropping.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” he grumbled as he started to strip her clothes away.
“It is just a graze. I barely feel it.”
Giving her a sharp look, he started removing her coat and lifted the hem of her shirt to get a better look at the injury. A shallow trail had been seared across her ribs.
“See,” she said lightly. It hurt like hell, but it certainly wasn’t life-threatening. “Just a scratch.”
Malcolm said nothing to that, but the look on his face probably would have scared just about anyone other than her. Luckily, she knew it was worry and love making him so angry. He strode back to Deuce and grabbed a canteen of water, then returned to her side to wash the wound.
She sat still and quiet under his attentions, allowing herself to soak in the fact that they were both alive and likely would remain so for some time to come.
“Well, I guess I’ve seen worse,” he mumbled.
“So have I,” she replied, bringing his gaze up to hers.
“You shouldn’t’ve been anywhere near that place. It was too damned dangerous, Alex.” He hung his head as he pressed a clean cloth to her side and tugged her shirt back down to cover it. “You could’ve been killed.”
“You could have been killed too,” she murmured, bringing her hand up to the side of his face. Then she smiled. “I’m glad we weren’t.”
“I wanted to save you from that, not drag you right into the middle of it.”
Alex tipped her head and gave him a hard took. She knew it wouldn’t be nearly as effective as his steel-like glares, but she did her best. He needed to understand how it was between them—how it was going to be. “You didn’t drag me into anything, Malcolm. I was in it long before I met you. The important thing is that we got out of it. Together.”
“You shouldn’t have been in that position.”
“But I was,” she answered sternly. “And I’ll damn well do it again if it means keeping you safe. Just as I know you’ll do the same for me. I heard your offer to Dunstan. I know what you were willing to sacrifice for me. You cannot expect me to do any less for you.”
He stared at her. His eyes flinty and deep and unreadable. His jaw tense beneath her hand.
Then he sighed—a heavy, weighted sound that seemed to come from deep inside. Grasping her wrist in his fingers, he turned his head to press a kiss into the center of her palm. “You’re right.”
She smiled again. “I know.”
His answering smile was sweet, but still tense.
She had to ask. “What will happen to all those…men we left behind?”
“We’ll stop in at Wolf Creek and let them know what happened. The other hired guns will likely disperse now that they don’t have a paycheck coming to them. Men like that are only loyal to themselves.”
“Won’t you need those documents you left behind to claim the bounty?”
“Those were decoys. I still have everything I need.”
Alex sucked in a breath. “You knew they would renege on their word, didn’t you? As soon as they shot at us, you had justification to kill them both.”
There was a long pause as the weight of what they’d gone through settled around them.
“It’s finally over,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. “You’re free, Alex.”
Firelight danced over his rough-hewn features and made his silvery eyes shine all the brighter. But the tension across his brow, though familiar, was not what she wanted to see at all.
“We are both free, Malcolm.”
He glanced away from her questioning gaze. “I imagine you’ll want to go back to your pa’s house.”
Alex tipped her head. “No. I don’t,” she answered quietly.
The muscles in his jaw bunched. “Isn’t that why you were so determined to get to Montana?”
“All I really wanted was to figure out where I belong, and that isn’t with my father. I hope to have opportunities to visit and get to know his new family—my new family—but my place isn’t with them.” She lifted a hand and pressed it to his chest, covering his heart. Waiting until he lifted his eyes again to meet hers, she took a breath and said, “I want to be with you, Malcolm. Wherever you go, whatever you do in life, I want to be with you.”
His eyes darkened as she spoke, but he remained stiff and unmoving. She held her breath. She thought he wanted the same—she felt in her bones that he did—but something still held him back.
“You’re not safe with me.” His words were tight and gruff, like they were getting choked in his throat. “Violence has attached itself to my life. I’d die if something happened to you while you were under my protection.”
Alexandra’s heart shuddered at the loss and fear in his voice.
This was it. The reason he resisted. He was afraid.
She rose up and repositioned herself to straddle his lap. Taking his handsome, ornery face in her hands, she looked intently into his eyes. Love flowed through her when his arms came around her hips, holding her tight.
“Life holds no guarantees, Malcolm,” she whispered. “We both know that. But I’d rather spend a thousand dangerous days and nights with you than one perfectly safe—horrendously lonely—day without you. I love you too much to be apart from you, Malcolm Kincaid.”
His arms doubled around her back, drawing her in snug against him. She slid her arms around his neck and closed her eyes as she squeezed him back, feeling the tension and resistance slowly easing from his body.
He released a deep and long-drawn breath against the curve of her neck. “I’ve been chasing demons so long, I don’t know how to do anything else.”
“We’ll figure it out together. It will be a grand adventure,” she suggested. “I’ll have to send word to my father that I’m all right. And my friends back in Boston are probably dying to find out what happened to me. I doubt they’ll believe any of it,” she added with a grin before she gave him another squeeze. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, Malcolm.”
His expression was still a little troubled, but his mouth slowly curved into a smile. “Not yet,” he replied in a low murmur. “I reckon we better make it official. You’ll have to marry me.”
Her eyes widened before she curled one corner of her mouth in a teasing smile. “I just got out of one engagement—I’m not sure I should jump right into another one,” she teased.
A low growl rumbled from his throat as he lifted her and turned to lay her back on their spread bedrolls. He was so careful, it caused only a slight twinge along her side.
“Then we’ll forego the engagement and visit the justice of the peace in the morning,” he said as he lowered his head to press a hot kiss to the side of her throat.
She sighed and arched her head back as tingling shivers coursed through her. “In the morning,” she murmured in agreement.
His fingers began to make quick work of the buttons on her shirt and then the tiny buttons of her undergarment beneath. He paused for a moment at the sight of the cloth pressed firm to her wound.
Lifting his head, he looked at her with his gaze bright. “I love you more than anything in this world, Alex. I vow to do whatever it takes to keep you safe and make you happy.”
She framed his handsome face in her hands and lifted her head to press a kiss to one corner of his mouth and then the other. “And I vow to do the same. You deserve happiness more than anyone I know.”
“This makes me happy. Being with you,” he said in a rough murmur, sending warmth through her body. Warmth and delicious waves of desire. “But I hav
e no home to take you to.”
“Home is wherever we are, Malcolm. Our future together is as wide-open as the Montana sky. And if we get tired of exploring, we can stop to rest in a little cabin I know of hidden deep in the mountains.”
He chuckled. “I think I know that place.”
“You should,” she assured him. “It’s where you fell in love with me, after all.”
His laughter then was warm and deep. It was everything.
About the Author
Amy Sandas’s love of romance began one summer when she stumbled across one of her mother’s Barbara Cartland books. Her affinity for writing began with sappy preteen poems and led to a bachelor’s degree with an emphasis on creative writing from the University of Minnesota Twin Cities. She lives with her husband and children in northern Wisconsin. Visit her website at amysandas.com.
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