Carol Finch

by The Ranger's Woman

  His eyebrows shot up and his jaw dropped. “I did?”

  “Absolutely. Compared to John Foster you have barrel loads of personality and admirable traits. If there is one thing I can say about our association, Callahan, it is that it has been an eventful adventure.”

  “And dangerous,” he emphasized, staring at her so oddly that she wondered what was running through that quick mind of his. “Ours would likely be a short-lived marriage. If we didn’t kill each other first, the decreased life expectancy in this part of the country probably would.”

  “Nonetheless, I have done more living this past week and have gained more practical experience in the past few days than I accumulated in all the years that I resided in Houston and Galveston,” she maintained. “I predict that I can cram more living into a month, while following you around, than I could in a year at home.”

  “So marry me,” he suggested flippantly. “That would ensure that your father couldn’t hand you over to this Foster character he picked out for you.”

  Piper stared goggle-eyed at him. It was a convenient solution to her problem, come to think of it. But what would Quinn get out of the arrangement? Other than legal license to her body for his sexual pleasure.

  And hers perhaps…? A slow burn worked its way through Piper’s body as she followed the trail that led to a spire of jagged rocks. For the first time in her life she wanted to know what it was like to experience passion. She’d had only a small taste of it recently—with Quinn. The truth was that she had wanted more. But how much more?

  “Snap out of it, Sullivan,” Quinn demanded when she continued to stare speculatively at him. “You’re staring again. A friend of mine told me that was rude.”

  “If we did marry,” she ventured, “what would you expect to gain from the arrangement?”

  “Hypothetically speaking?” he teased, his bronzed face crinkling with amusement.

  “Of course,” she said, enormously affected by one of his rare smiles.

  “Unlimited sex comes quickly to mind,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

  Piper felt her face burst into flames and she suspected that Quinn was purposely goading her. Well, two could play that game, she decided. “That goes without saying. I would be all for that, of course. I am very much interested in new experiences, after all.”

  It was his turn to gape at her. She also noticed that he was squirming uncomfortably on his horse. Piper was amazed that she could discuss such a private matter with a man. It certainly wasn’t acceptable in polite society. But then, she had recently discovered that she felt at ease discussing almost everything with Quinn. He had become her confidant and friend, and the possibility of being his lover appealed to her far more than it probably should have.

  “I thought perhaps the opportunity to share my inheritance might be the determining factor in your offer of marriage,” she added belatedly.

  He gave her a smoldering glance that sent another wave of fire coursing through her body. “When I look at you, I guarantee that I don’t see dollar signs, Piper,” he said huskily. “Besides, I have no doubt that your father would disinherit you faster than he disowned Penelope after taking one disapproving look at me.”

  Piper surveyed him for a long, pensive moment, seeing a tough, courageous warrior who answered to no man. “Then my father would be a fool for rejecting you. Furthermore, he can keep his money because, from my experience, it comes with stifling restrictions and too many strings attached.”

  Leaving Quinn to stare bewilderedly at her, Piper nudged her horse to precede him up the trail that had again narrowed to such extremes that riding single file was imperative.

  Roarke Sullivan leaned back in his chair at his desk when the city marshal entered the office. Drake’s mouth was set in such a grim line that Roarke’s senses went on full alert. Whatever news Drake had received obviously wasn’t good.

  “What’s happened?” Roarke demanded immediately. “Have you received word about my daughter?”

  Drake halted in front of the desk and Roarke reflexively surged to his feet. It was his policy never to allow anyone to tower over him, as if he were at a disadvantage.

  “I received a telegram from Commander Scott Butler,” the marshal murmured, refusing to meet Roarke’s direct stare.

  “And?” Roarke prodded impatiently.

  “There was only one woman reported to be riding the westbound stage from Fort Stockton to Fort Davis this past week. She was an old widow, swathed in black from head to toe. She was wearing a veiled hat that concealed her face.”

  Hope rose inside Roarke. “That has to be Piper. She might not have the good sense to go racing off unchaperoned, but she is certainly clever enough to disguise herself for protection and try to conceal her identity. So, has she arrived at the garrison to be with her sister?”

  William Drake shook his head, then handed over the telegram. “The stage was robbed and the coach crashed on a cliff in the mountains.”

  Roarke howled in dismay as he read the missive.

  “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Sullivan. If you read the entire message you know that the rescue party of Rangers found part of the wreckage strewn on the mountainside and the rest washed away in the fast-moving stream below. The veiled hat was snagged in a scrub bush.”

  Roarke sat down before he fell down. Piper was presumed dead? His young daughter was gone? Her remains had washed downstream to be picked apart by the wolves, mountain lions or bobcats that prowled that godforsaken region of Texas?

  Grief and regret plowed into Roarke so quickly that it stole his breath and drained the color from his ruddy cheeks. “Dear God in heaven!” he wheezed as he half collapsed in his chair.

  “The Ranger commander promised to send a detailed report of the accident after further investigation,” Drake went on to say.

  Roarke heaved himself back to his feet, his mind whirling. He had arrangements to make before his trip to Fort Davis. If this bleak report proved to be accurate then he had no recourse but to contact Penelope. Despite his disappointment in her decision to marry that army captain she had foolishly fallen in love with three years earlier he was compelled to see her again.

  My God, he might have lost one daughter, but he couldn’t bear to lose them both!

  Leaving Drake standing where he was, Roarke pelted through the door to the warehouse behind the office. He wasted no time locating his second-in-command. He was bound for Austin on the train. From there he would hop the first stage headed southwest. If Piper had miraculously survived the catastrophe he would find her—somehow.

  If she hadn’t survived… The image of Piper staring up at him, bursting with irrepressible spirit and determination, nearly knocked him to his knees.

  It can’t be, came the frantic voice of denial. He couldn’t have lost her. He had doted on Piper after Penelope defied his wishes. He had put all his efforts into molding and grooming Piper to become the perfect wife for a wealthy Galveston aristocrat.

  Damnation, he’d had such high hopes for his young daughter. She had angered him constantly with her resistance and her insistence on controlling her own destiny, but he had been confident that she would eventually obey his command.

  Never once had Roarke considered the possibility of losing Piper forever.

  If the preliminary report was true, then Roarke had no recourse but to bring Penelope back to Galveston, because she would be his only heir. He would dissolve her ill-advised marriage to Captain Duncan if he must, but he would protect Penelope, as he should have protected Piper from harm.

  On that determined thought, Roarke made the necessary arrangements with his second-in-command. Then he dashed home to pack a bag. He would try to find Piper. He would refuse to give up hope until he knew beyond all doubt that she had perished. Then he would reconcile with Penelope and bring her home where she belonged.

  Roarke had lost his wife to illness years ago, and now perhaps his younger daughter. But he would not lose Penelope, too!

 
; Quinn made the arduous trek to Hell’s Ridge by high noon. Although Piper hadn’t voiced a single word of complaint he had kept a close eye on her and noticed she had begun to look fatigued. She’d had quite a scare that morning, followed by a difficult ride over unforgiving terrain without the convenience of a saddle to anchor herself to.

  Being an inexperienced rider, she’d had a couple of near misses on the treacherous trail. Quinn could see the determination etched on her enchanting face and he knew she intended to test herself to the limits and gain experience in survival—no matter what extremes she encountered.

  Although Quinn had tried hard to remain focused on his mission, it had been nearly impossible after he had impulsively popped off with the suggestion that Piper marry him to counter her father’s plans. What the hell had he been thinking? And for Piper to say that she preferred him to her wealthy fiancé from Galveston? What had she been thinking?

  Quinn sighed heavily as he dismounted to lead the procession down a winding footpath to yet another rock-covered arroyo. He was pretty sure now that he couldn’t deal with Piper’s new policy of straightforward honesty. True, he had informed her that he disliked deceit and manipulation. Now she was out to prove that he could trust her to say exactly what she meant and tell him exactly what she felt.

  That was good…and that was bad.

  He didn’t want to waste time speculating on what it would be like to wed this blue-eyed siren who was so distractingly attractive that he constantly battled lust at inappropriate moments. If he weren’t careful he would drive himself completely loco with erotic fantasies.

  He would, however, agree to marry her in name only if it would resolve her conflict with her father and provide her with protection from adventurers looking to attach themselves to an heiress. But that would be the beginning and end of a marriage to Piper Sullivan, he told himself sensibly.

  Never mind that there had been times—after discovering that she wasn’t the persnickety old crone, who had given him hell for the spite and sport of it—that he had only to look at her and wanted her badly. But Quinn refused to take something from Piper that should belong to a worthy, deserving man.

  “You are awfully quiet, Gray Owl,” Red Hawk murmured from behind him.

  “I have a lot on my mind.”

  All these thoughts pertaining to Piper, and most especially her comment that she wouldn’t be adverse to a marriage between them, were playing havoc on his emotions. Damn, she had really knocked him for a loop with that. He still hadn’t gotten past it.

  “Are you thinking of the bandoleros in El Muerto Cañon?” Red Hawk questioned.

  Not even close, thought Quinn. That’s where his mind should have been. But it wasn’t, damn it.

  “Spotted Deer and I would like to offer our services to join the fight that will rid our sacred ground of those vicious Mexicans and white men. You could inform your commander that you have recruited us for the task,” he suggested hopefully.

  Quinn glanced over his shoulder to see a shrewd sparkle in the Comanche’s coal-black eyes. He grinned in amusement. “That would solve your problem of being absent without permission from the reservation, wouldn’t it?”

  “It would,” Spotted Deer spoke up. “Other tribe members have volunteered to scout for the army and the Rangers. It has to be better than confinement. And why not us? We know this territory as well as you do. And like you, Gray Owl, we have no family left that requires our assistance and support.”

  Quinn thought it over and decided the prospect had merit. These two warriors were a great deal like him. They were men whose way of life had been taken from them. They were also without family ties. Although some clans of the Kiowa and Comanche tribes had accepted their fate and given up the fight to save their dying culture, Red Hawk and Spotted Deer were restless spirits needing a cause and purpose.

  They preferred to die in combat rather than lose their pride and rot away on the reservation. To Quinn’s way of thinking he was doing the warriors a favor by allowing them to join ranks. It had to be better than remaining fugitives—waiting for the army to run them to ground and execute them for causing trouble.

  It wouldn’t be the first time soldiers followed their take-no-prisoners policy with Indians.

  “Then you are hereby deputized as Ranger scouts,” Quinn declared with an expansive wave of his arm. “You have two assignments. The first is to help me identify the white and Mexican banditos for future trial and sentencing. The second is to keep my woman safe from harm.”

  His woman? Damnation, he needed to call her by name instead of placing a possessive label on her. Piper was not his woman and she never would be. He would not bring her down to his lowly level and force her to face the scorn and rejection he had endured most of his adult life. Despite his good intentions, she had come to mean something special to him and he didn’t want to see her hurt, shamed or shunned because of her association with him.

  Plus, she was a unique experience for him and he didn’t want his image of her tarnished. There would be at least one sweet memory that he could look upon in the future, something aside from the danger and violence and hatred he dealt with on a weekly basis.

  He and Piper had become friends and confidants because necessity demanded it. But when he completed this assignment and delivered her to her sister they would go their separate ways. That was best for her, he assured himself sensibly.

  “I really would appreciate it if you wouldn’t exclude me from all your conversations,” Piper commented while she and Lucky brought up the rear of the procession. “What are you three discussing now?”

  Quinn studied Piper’s peaked complexion and decided it was definitely time to call a halt. She looked tired and her face was flushed from too much exertion. He had been pushing her too hard and he needed to be more attuned to her needs or she would collapse in exhaustion.

  “Well?” she prodded in typical Piper Sullivan fashion.

  He grinned at her persistence to be included in conversation. “Our two friends have volunteered to serve as guides for my Ranger battalion,” he replied. “They have no desire to be confined to the reservation.”

  “I can identify with that.” Piper pulled a face then stared sympathetically at the Comanche warriors. “Having someone dictate what you can do and where you can go is extremely exasperating.”

  The warriors looked to Quinn for translation. “Piper thinks you should be allowed your freedom so you can avoid confinement in Indian Territory.”

  The comment earned Piper two wide grins and approving nods from the Comanches.

  “You’ve made fast friends,” Quinn assured her. “I think they regret that fiasco this morning, especially since you’ve taken their side.”

  A moment later Quinn flung up his hand. “This is a good time to break for lunch. But pemmican and water is all I have to offer.”

  Piper’s stomach growled. She had missed breakfast and hunger had left her light-headed for the past hour. “Sounds wonderful.”

  She frowned curiously when Red Hawk and Spotted Deer tethered their horses and disappeared into the wild tangle of underbrush on the west side of the mountain. “Where are they going?”

  “To find something more appetizing for you to eat, I expect.” Quinn shepherded her toward a flat-topped outcropping of stone and gestured for her to sit down. “When I agreed to deputize the Comanche warriors I insisted that part of their duties was to provide you with protection.”

  Piper wrinkled her nose and flung him a withering glance. “So now I’m an inconvenience to them, too? You sure know how to make a woman feel good about herself, Callahan.”

  Quinn curled his hand beneath her skinned chin, forcing her head up to meet his wry smile. “I don’t think they mind the extra task all that much. You might be a paleface to them, but they mentioned that they found you appealing to look at.”

  “Oh, well, that makes me feel so much better,” she said, and smirked. “After all, I have been no more than a trophy and window dres
sing to my suitors the past few years.”

  Her breath stalled in her chest when Quinn leaned down to brush his lips gently over hers. Pleasure overshadowed her weariness in one second flat. Amazing what the taste of this man did for her sagging spirits.

  When he tried to withdraw, Piper looped her arms around his neck and brought his head back to hers. “Not so fast, Mr. Ranger. I need more than a hasty kiss to get me up and moving again.”

  Piper kissed him for all she was worth, marveling at how quickly she had become addicted to the taste of him. He was like a thirst-quenching drink, a long-awaited feast. She could get used to kissing him whenever she felt like it.

  Would she be just as compelled by him if they shared a bed? she wondered. Would she want more intimacy with him, just as she craved more of his kisses?

  The thought whirled off in the wind when he tasted her deeply. She responded instantaneously, enthusiastically. What was there about this man that stirred so many unprecedented sensations and tender emotions inside her? Why was she reaching out to him when she had spent years dodging the unwanted advances of other men? Why did he taste like heaven to her? Why did he draw her admiration and affection without even trying?

  Because Quinn Callahan isn’t a man with hidden agendas, came the quiet voice of insight. He’s an honest man. Rough around the edges, to be sure. Blunt to a fault, no doubt about it. But he’s solid and trustworthy and competent. Something deep inside him calls to something deep inside you and makes him impossible for you to resist.

  The crunch of stone beneath moccasined feet caused Quinn to retreat. Piper turned her head to see the warriors approaching. Her eyes lit up and she smiled appreciatively when she noticed the red berries they had gathered for lunch.

  When Red Hawk extended a handful to her, Piper thanked him kindly then gobbled the treat. The berries were bittersweet but juicy and she eagerly accepted a second helping.

  “What are these things?” she asked, pointing to the brown buds mixed in with the berries.