Foxfire Bride

by Maggie Osborne

  But sitting here now, drinking whiskey with the haunted old man she came to kill Fox understood that she liked herself fine, just as she was.

  A hard knot fell away from her heart, crumbling as the anger drained out of her body. She had been so angry and so filled with hate for so long that for one panicky moment she tried to hang on to those feelings, then she exhaled slowly and feeling lighter by the minute, she let them go.

  Tears glistened on her lashes and she swallowed hard.

  "Did Tanner tell you how many times we picked up those gold coins?"

  "He told me about the outlaws you two chased down."

  "Did he tell you about getting shot by an Indian?"

  "Lord, no." Asking her to relate the story, Jennings refilled their glasses.

  Fox glanced at the ceiling, imagining she heard Peaches laughing his heavenly butt off. It would have tickled him to see her trading stories with Hobbs Jennings. "Well, we'd stopped at a Mormon fort. Might be the place that served buttermilk." She made a face and shuddered. "I don't recall. Anyway, we helped chase off a party of Utes, but a couple of them snuck into our camp to steal our horses, and"

  It wasn't going to be easy. The deep need to kill Jennings receded more every time she looked into those sad eyes, but Fox doubted she could ever forgive him. If the familiar hatred should rise again, she would remind herself that whatever he was, Hobbs Jennings had raised the finest man she'd ever known. She would try to respect him for that one thing.

  By the time she finished the tale and one or two more, the sun had sunk toward the peaks, and they sat in shadows.

  "There's much we have to discuss," Hobbs Jennings said quietly. "I hope we'll talk again and you'll allow me to know you. But right now, there's someone waiting and pacing the floor. He's turned this town upside down searching for you."

  "You aren't the only problem between us," she said, looking down at her empty glass. "I don't fit in his world."

  Jennings regarded her with a thoughtful expression. "Whose opinion do you value? That of people you'll never meet and never know? Or Matthew's opinion? Matthew doesn't care what people might think of you. He's willing to accept you exactly as you are."

  Oh Lord. The person whose opinion she cared least about agreed with Peaches, the person she'd cared the most about. Sudden tears stung the back of her eyes.

  "Instead of worrying about you fitting into Matthew's world, or him fitting into yours," Jennings said gently, "perhaps you can create a world that's right for the two of you."

  Damn all. It was something Peaches might have said. And Peaches would have made it sound just as possible.

  "Tanner cares about your opinion" she whispered.

  "Eugenia? Nothing would please me more than to see you both happy."

  "Thank you." Fox blinked hard. "Not that I care whether you're pleased or not," she added hastily.

  "I hope someday you will." Standing, he gazed at her with those heart-wrenching, dark eyes. "We've both waited a very long time for today. Welcome home."

  Without a word, Fox spun and walked out of the room. She didn't want him to see her cry.

  Someone had to know where she was. Or maybe she'd changed her mind about killing his father and headed back to Nevada. No, she wouldn't abandon a goal almost as old as she was. Tanner swore in frustration.

  The only thing he'd done since returning to Denver was search for Fox and think about her. A redheaded woman who wasn't afraid of anything, a woman unlike any he'd known before. A woman he loved enough to do whatever it took to have her beside him forever.

  Pacing the length of his parlor, he combed his mind for a hint of where she might be. What was she thinking now? When and how would she go after his father? He knew in his gut that he could change her mind somehow because that had to be true. But he couldn't think of anywhere else to look for her. He'd exhausted all the possibilities.

  A pounding on the door interrupted his thoughts. He peered at the clock but couldn't read the time since he hadn't yet lit the lamps. He wasn't expecting anyone. The pounding continued and he waited in annoyance, then recalled that he'd dismissed the servants for the evening.

  "Damn it." Striding into the foyer, he pulled open the door, prepared to send away whoever he found there. But a beautiful young woman stormed past him in a swish of skirts and a waft of rose scent. "Fox? My God, is that you?" He couldn't believe his eyes. She was the loveliest creature he'd ever seen.

  "It's me, all right," she said, rounding on him and jabbing him in the chest to punctuate her words. "Like father, like son. If one of you isn't stealing my money, it's the other."

  "What?" She wouldn't be here if she'd killed his father. A slow grin of relief and joy spread across his face. She had come to him. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I know I want to kiss you until you scream."

  "Our deal was that you pay me half up front, and the other half when I dragged your butt into Denver." The finger poking at his chest became several fingers unbuttoning his shirt. "You didn't pay me."

  "Good Lord. You're right. I forgot about it until this minute." Sweeping her into his arms, he kissed her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, the corner of her lips.

  She licked his earlobe, and his thighs tightened painfully. "I suppose you're going to claim that the money you owe me is upstairs in your bedroom." Her arms wound around his neck and she grabbed him, kissing him hard, kissing him until they both were gasping.

  "That's exactly where my money is," he said hoarsely. "Do I take it correctly that you didn't kill my father?"

  "I didn't kill him," she said, not sounding happy about it. "You and me, we've got some family problems to work out, namely that I may occasionally still want to kill that bastard, your father. On the other hand, he has a way about him."

  "I want to hear every detail about what happened later." Tanner slung her over his shoulder and gave her fanny a long caress, remembering fondly when that fanny had smelled like bacon. He started up the staircase. "I hope you aren't tired, I promise you, this is going to be a long night." Stopping midway up the stairs, he threw back his head and shouted. "I love you, Eugenia Foxworth soon to be Jennings."

  She smacked his back with her fists. "Not Eugenia, damn. And not Jennings. Can't we be Tanner?"

  "We can be whatever you want us to be!"

  Kicking open his bedroom door, he set her on her feet beside the bed and lit the lamps. He wanted to see her as he undressed her, wanted to see and touch and taste every piece and part of her. Good God, she was beautiful. Glowing. Radiant. Cupping her face, he gazed into the face he loved so well. "You aren't going to change your mind, are you?"

  "About not killing your father?"

  "About loving me."

  "Oh Tanner." She touched his lips with a trembling finger. "I'll love you forever, until we're as old as those fossils you're going to find. I'll keep your house, grow your radishes, and raise your babies. I'll fight your enemies and try to love who you love. Or at least tolerate him."

  He hadn't wept since he was a child. The hot sting behind his eyes surprised him. Then he laughed as she hopped up on the bed, sent her bonnet flying across the room and shook the hairpins out of her magnificent hair, letting it shimmer and fall to her waist. She arched an eyebrow and crooked a finger. "Come here and I'll show you how much I love you. That will never change. Never. Truth is, I can outdrink you, outshoot you, and outlove you."

  "You can outshoot me, but you can't outlove me," he said, loving her so hard he couldn't breathe.

  She smiled and opened her arms, her eyes soft and shining in the lamplight. "Let's find out."

  He suspected it would be a contest they'd be waging when they were old and holding each other in the bedroom of the house he would build for her. They were about to embark on the greatest journey of their lives. When he took her into his arms, he knew the journey had begun.