Bounty Hunter's Bride

by Carol Finch

  “What?” he mumbled, obviously dumbfounded by her abrupt mood swing. “You weren’t complaining a few minutes ago. I swear, you and your kind are the most confounding and unpredictable creatures on the planet.”

  “I said get off.” She gave him a forceful shove to punctuate her demand. His comment upset her. As if she wasn’t tormented enough by the disconcerting thought that was buzzing through her mind.

  “What’s wrong?” Cale asked as he withdrew, leaving her cold and empty and feeling even more like the naive fool that she obviously was.

  Hanna clutched the sheet around her and rolled off the bed. Her emotions were cresting like storm-tossed waves on the sea. What had been uniquely and incredibly intimate one moment became humiliating in the face of reality. She’d reveled in newfound passion—until it dawned on her that what she’d shared with Cale was exactly the same as Millie Roberts had experienced with him, plenty of times before. That really hurt!

  This was lusty, heart-pounding sex, she presumed. It was coupling for the sake of physical release. It had nothing whatsoever to do with love.

  Not that she knew the first thing about love, of course, but she knew enough to know she’d just become a man’s conquest. Nothing more. The thought crushed her self-esteem in one second flat.

  “Hanna, come back to bed,” Cale insisted as he grabbed the trailing end of the sheet.

  “Not on your life!” she sputtered indignantly, then jerked the sheet from his grasp. “It wouldn’t have mattered, would it?”

  “Woman, I don’t have the slightest idea what in the hell you’re talking about,” he muttered, exasperated. “One minute you nearly claw me to death and demand more and the next minute you can’t get away from me fast enough!”

  “Millie or me,” she huffed. “For you, it was just the same. Any female would have served you just as well.”

  Cale went perfectly still. Uh-oh. He never claimed to be an authority on women, but he recognized an offended female when he saw one. He was definitely staring at one now. Her chin was tilted in a look of indignation. No doubt about it, her misconception was the direct result of her inexperience with men. Changing bed partners was the only way to rectify her erroneous conclusions, but Cale definitely wasn’t in favor of that! He was pretty sure that the prospect of another man making love with Hanna would drive him insane.

  “It wasn’t the same at all, Mags,” he told her truthfully. “You’ve got to believe me.”

  “Do I?” She expelled an unladylike snort and tossed her tangled blond hair in a gesture of annoyance. “Don’t lie to me, Cale.” There was a hitch in her voice that indicated she was close to tears. “I’d rather hear the hurtful truth than to know I can’t count on your honesty in all matters.”

  Frustrated, Cale levered himself onto the edge of the bed. He wished he could exchange places with Skeet and let him handle this awkward situation. “So what do you plan to do? Look up Pierce, sleep with him and determine if I’ve lied to you?”

  Her chin went airborne. “Certainly not.”

  “Why not?” he grilled her, unsure why the answer to the question seemed so important to him.

  “Because I…” Her voice trailed off and she glared at him as if this was all his fault. Which he reckoned she thought it was.

  “Even if it was the same—which it was not,” he was quick to assure her, “you’re the one who said we had no hold over each other. You said we’re free to do as we pleased, when we pleased, with whom we pleased. Are you changing the rules again…? Well, are you?”

  Hanna turned her back on him, so confused and exasperated she wasn’t sure she could trust herself to speak rationally. She was afraid her admiration and hero worship for this man who was her temporary husband, tutor and guide was evolving into love—or something very much like it. But that way led to disaster. Love spoke of vulnerability and restrictions.

  She’d been confined and susceptible before. She’d loved her father and ached for his affection and acceptance in return. She’d loved her mother and brother and she’d lost them. Falling in love with Cale spelled heartache and disappointment. Besides, she’d waited years for the freedom to embrace the world and feed her hungry soul. If she let herself fall in love with Cale she’d be tormented by the knowledge that each time he stopped at Bennigan’s Trading Post, Millie would take her place in his bed and share what Hanna had shared with him.

  But how did you make that not matter to your heart? How could you make your heart not love someone when you were already halfway there?

  Hanna hadn’t realized Cale had quietly dressed and left the room until she heard the window slide back into place. She turned to see his silhouette hovering outside momentarily before he vanished like a phantom in the night.

  She plopped down on the bed and asked herself how she was supposed to face the man she’d made love with after she’d behaved like a jealous ninny and all but shouted him out of their room. And sweet mercy, how could such an incredible night in Cale’s sinewy arms end on such a sour note?

  Pierce stumbled to his feet and grabbed his pistol when Cale stalked toward him. “What are you doing back here? I told you I’d take the night watch.”

  “Go check on Julius,” Cale snapped brusquely.

  Pierce looked him up and down, then smiled. “Trouble in marital paradise, Chief?”

  “Don’t wanna talk about it,” Cale mumbled.

  “Millie, I suppose,” Pierce speculated as he holstered his Colt. “Told ya she’d brew up trouble. It’s never good to let a possessive and jealous woman near a man’s wife.”

  “Didn’t know you were such an expert on marriage,” Cale grunted. “Been married a lot, have you?”

  “Once,” Pierce admitted. “She ran off with someone else while I was out here, making the world safe for humanity. Guess I was hunting the wrong criminal. If you ask me, wife-stealing ought to be an offense punishable by hanging, same as horse-thieving.”

  When Pierce ambled off, Cale plopped down in the grass and leaned against the rough-hewn wall of the stockade. How was it possible for heaven to turn into hell in one night? He and Hanna had been getting along well enough until she took it into her head that having sex with Millie and the intimacy he shared with Hanna were the same damn thing. What was he supposed to do to convince her otherwise? Send Pierce to have a turn with Hanna so she’d know the difference?

  The thought soured Cale’s already deteriorating mood. Anyone who thought a marriage of convenience wasn’t inconvenient and complicated needed to have his head examined. Not only did Cale have a disillusioned wife on his hands, but there was a strong possibility that her offended pride and anger would put her on the morning stage and send her rumbling off with the other passengers. Then where would he be in his quest to infiltrate Otis Pryor’s stronghold and bring that bastard to justice?

  You shouldn’t have walked out, the voice of reason chastised him. You should have stayed to reassure Hanna. Since when do you tiptoe around trouble?

  Since he’d encountered a woman who stirred up the kind of emotion he wasn’t accustomed to dealing with.

  Cale sighed audibly. Who would’ve thought that, by him exceeding Hanna’s low expectations of passion, she’d leap to the worst of all possible conclusions?

  He decided he’d been better off when he simply served as Hanna’s trail guide and survival instructor. True, frustrated desire had gnawed at him until hell wouldn’t have it, but he’d coped with it. The pleasure and satisfaction he’d found in Hanna’s embrace had been phenomenal, and he longed to have the chance to spend every night in her arms, fulfilling his wildest fantasies. Now that he knew what he’d been missing it would drive him absolutely crazy.

  Cale, who’d never found himself in the middle of a situation like this before, was having difficulty figuring out how to make things right between him and Hanna. How could he make her understand that what they’d shared was rare and unique?

  Knowing that she was hurting and that she’d turned away from h
im tormented him no end. This was the first time he’d ever felt compelled to comfort and reassure anyone, and he’d failed miserably at it. He hadn’t known what to say or do to put things back the way they were.

  The inexpressible feelings that roiled inside him made his chest tighten uncomfortably. He felt twitchy, restless and dissatisfied. Indeed, Cale preferred to face down outlaws than to know Hanna was upset and disillusioned.

  He’d spent three hours worrying for all the wrong reasons, he realized. He’d worried that he might hurt her. Worried that he wouldn’t be gentle and attentive enough to pleasure his innocent bride.

  And what really troubled him was that he’d somehow lost her trust. That was the one thing he had come to depend on.

  Hanna had become his haven, his contact with normalcy in life—something outside the grueling rigors of his duties for Parker. Now he’d spoiled it.

  Cale squeezed his eyes shut and swore foully. If he’d had a chance for a decent night’s sleep it had been shot to hell. He had too much on his mind.

  But maybe things wouldn’t seem so grim and confusing in the morning, he tried to console himself.

  Or maybe, he thought pessimistically, things would be worse.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dressed in her ill-fitting buckskins, her hair tucked beneath her cap, Hanna descended the steps to see the stage passengers filing from the dining room to board the coach. She ignored Millie’s lethal glare, then followed the travelers outside. Her footsteps faltered when she saw Cale poised beside the wagon, staring directly at her. His face was devoid of emotion as he glanced toward the waiting stage, then at her. His muscled body was rigid, as if braced for trouble.

  Hanna veered away from the passengers, noticing as she did so that Cale breathed a small sigh of relief. He was trying not to give the slightest indication, but she presumed that he’d expected her to board the stage and leave him high and dry.

  “What changed your mind?” he murmured when Hanna tossed her satchel in the back of their wagon.

  She pivoted to face his searching gaze. “In the middle of the night, when I should have been sleeping instead of turning and tossing fitfully, I reminded myself that we made a bargain. I like to think I’m honorable enough to keep my word.”

  He looked her squarely in the eye and replied, “It wasn’t the same, Mags. Not at all.”

  Which, of course, had nothing whatsoever to do with her comment. He had no idea how much she wanted to believe him, and there was no question that he seemed intent on convincing her that he’d meant what he said.

  Abruptly, Cale swooped down and scooped her up in his brawny arms, then deposited her on the wagon seat. His touch triggered visions of their shared passion, and Hanna shivered helplessly in response.

  Despite the number of men who’d courted her and her money, despite the confusion and uncertainty she’d suffered last night, it was this man who affected her on a dozen different levels. That was an indisputable, undeniable fact.

  Hanna frowned pensively. Admittedly, she had a narrow frame of reference—a peephole, actually—when it came to passion. She wondered if Cale might have told her the truth. Could it be that he harbored a certain affection for her? Could their joining have been special for him, too? Could it be that even with her lack of experience she’d somehow touched something deep inside him? Was it possible that she had misjudged their passionate encounter because of her narrow field of reference? Had she overreacted the previous night?

  “Now what’s wrong?” he grumbled.

  Hanna jerked her attention to Cale, who’d climbed up beside her to grab the reins. The man was so alert and attentive that nothing got past him. “I was just thinking.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Mags. It didn’t help the situation last night.” He gestured for Skeet to hop into the wagon bed. “What are you thinking about?”

  Hanna didn’t reply until Cale steered the wagon behind the stagecoach, which lurched off at a fast clip. “How many lovers have you had?” she asked flat out.

  Cale nearly choked. “Damn, Magnolia Blossom. Why do we have to discuss that in order to get past last night?”

  Her lips twitched when she noticed a blush creeping across his bronzed face. She wasn’t sure if she’d witnessed anything so endearing in her life. “Because I’m trying to puzzle something out.”

  “Well, puzzle something else out, if you don’t mind,” he mumbled, shifting awkwardly on the seat.

  “I want an honest answer.”

  “Don’t you usually?”

  She watched the stage disappear around the bend before she glanced at Cale. “Less than a dozen?”

  He cleared his throat, blushed again and stared straight ahead. “Considerably less,” he replied.

  The admission pacified her. “Fine, we’ll leave it at that.”

  “Good. Can’t tell ya how glad I am to hear it.”

  “And it wasn’t like that with the rest of them? Truly?” She had to know because it mattered greatly.

  “No, Magnolia, it wasn’t,” he said, staring straight at her, willing her to believe him.

  She studied him for a long, pensive moment, then nodded and smiled. Cale nearly keeled off the seat in sheer relief. Within a matter of minutes they’d gotten past the hurdle that had kept him awake all night. Poof! Just like that and he was back in her good graces. Why? Because she believed in him. Because he’d never lied to her. Well, wasn’t that something?

  The tension drained away and Cale realized the sleepless night had plumb worn him out. He needed a nap to compensate.

  “I checked on Julius this morning,” she commented. “He seemed to be feeling considerably better, despite his horrendous headache.”

  Cale had checked on Julius, too, and was relieved to see the wound showed no signs of infection.

  “Pierce dropped by to say his farewells,” she added. “Nice men, those deputy marshals. I hope I’ll have the opportunity to see them again someday.”

  Cale handed the reins to Hanna. “Keep a two-mile distance from the stage,” he instructed.

  “Why…?” Suddenly Hanna nodded thoughtfully and answered her own question. “Because if they meet with trouble we’ll be close enough to assist, but far enough away to use the element of surprise.”

  Cale couldn’t help himself: he dropped an impulsive kiss to her petal-soft lips. “You catch on quick, Mags. Good for you.”

  Impish amusement danced in her violet eyes as she watched him squirm between the supplies to make a nest to take a nap. “This journey has been a very enlightening experience all the way around.” She glanced at the dog. “Come up here, Skeet. I’ll talk your leg off while Cale catches up on his rest.”

  Wearing what he was sure was a goofy smile, Cale closed his eyes and slumped in exhaustion. He’d made peace with Hanna and all was right in his world again. He’d been physically weary before—lots of times. But the emotional turmoil that had hounded him throughout the night was ten times worse than anything in his past experiences.

  Seeing Hanna hurt and upset really hit him where he lived. He never wanted that to happen again, because he was beginning to live for her endearing smiles. Without them, the sun didn’t seem to shine as brightly. He wondered why that was, but fell asleep before he could puzzle it out.

  Cale and Hanna followed the stage for two days without mishap. On the third evening, ominous clouds piled on the horizon at sunset, indicating a threatening storm was about to unleash its fury. Hanna cuddled up beside Cale on the wagon seat to ward off the chill. A cold blast of wind slapped her in the face, and lightning, like bony fingers, clawed at the gloomy clouds. Thunder crashed and the earth shook in response.

  “The storm is about three miles away,” Cale reported.

  Hanna glanced inquisitively at him. “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve lived in the wide-open spaces for years,” he reminded her over the howling wind. “Indian cultures make a study of Mother Nature. For every five seconds between the
flash of lightning and the roll of thunder, you can calculate a mile’s distance between you and the storm.”

  Hanna watched lightning flare in the darkening sky, then counted to sixteen before she heard the grumble of thunder. She wondered why her studies in physics at finishing school hadn’t revealed that useful information. It was definitely something she’d need to know during her travels.

  Thus far, Cale had been a font of useful information, and she’d given him a few pointers in gentlemanly behavior during their southwestward trek. She definitely needed to begin her instructions on etiquette in earnest, because Cale had informed her they would reach Cromwell, Texas, by the end of the week.

  When Cale suddenly jerked upright, Hanna felt heightened awareness sizzle through him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Listen,” he said as he brought the wagon to a halt.

  Hanna heard it then. The alarming sound indicated that trouble followed swiftly on the heels of a crash of thunder. Gunfire! The stagecoach! As if she’d read Cale’s mind, she lunged for the reins at the exact moment he thrust them hurriedly at her. He bounded off the seat, clambered over the supplies and hopped onto his saddle horse, which was tied behind the wagon.

  “Keep your distance while I find out what’s going on ahead of us.…Skeet!”

  “But—” Hanna protested when Cale, with his faithful dog at his heels, took off like an arrow.

  Cale plunged into the dense underbrush beside the road and disappeared just as another blinding flash of light gouged the clouds. Rain came down in torrents. Hanna looped the reins around the brake handle, then twisted on the seat to grab the canvas tarp. Hurriedly she covered their supplies and secured the tarp. By the time she retrieved the reins she was thoroughly soaked.

  The horses trotted along, heads ducked in the driving rain. Hanna pulled the cap low on her forehead and squinted to see where she was going. Cale had told her to keep her distance from whatever calamity had befallen the stage passengers, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t top the hill and see for herself what was going on in the valley below.