Carol Finch (3 page)

“I’ll send him a note…if I get around to it.”

“That will not suffice,” she snapped at him. “The real murderer is running loose. He might have killed Tony for the bounty on his head.”

“Your former lover was an outlaw? Why am I not surprised.”

“I don’t know if he was or not,” she muttered, exasperated. “Tony was secretive about his past and I’ve been wondering if he’d had a brush with the law and hid out in the territory. He might have been using an alias, for all I know. But what I
do
know is that he was nice to me. It’s up to you to find out the truth. And for your information, he wasn’t my lover. He wanted to marry me and I—”

Lori dragged in a steadying breath. The awful scene
exploded in her mind’s eye and the horrid memory of watching Tony collapse after the sniper shot him, while trying to shield her from harm, bombarded her with killing force. She choked back a sob, refusing to dissolve into tears in front of this hard-hearted marshal.

No doubt, he’d think she was putting on an act to milk his sympathy. As if he had a sympathetic bone in his powerful body—one that he pressed up against her as if he were her own shadow.

“He wanted to marry you so you shot him?” he remarked caustically. “You could have just said
no.
”

“Damn it, Fox. You are an ass!” she sniped furiously and blinked back the tormenting tears that threatened to destroy her crumbling composure.

“And you are a cold-blooded killer,” he said in a steely voice. “If there’s such a thing as a femme fatale,
you
’re it.”

“You are going to be eternally sorry when you discover that I’m telling the truth. I lost a dear friend to an unknown assailant.”

“Right,” he said, and smirked.

It was pure torment for Gideon to use his body to surround his alluring captive. With each movement of the horse beneath him, he could feel Lori’s rounded rump brushing provocatively against his crotch. He could smell the appetizing scent of her body and it threatened to cloud his senses the same way the fog clogged the Osage Hills.

The sooner he delivered this sinfully seductive siren and Pecos Clem, the horse thief, to headquarters the happier he’d be. She could spout her lies nonstop, but Gideon wouldn’t fall prey to them—or her. He’d heard hundreds of convoluted claims in his day. The jail in Fort Smith was teeming with inmates who shouted their innocence to high
heaven. They lied through their teeth—anything to ensure they could escape justice.

Gideon glanced at Clem, who was still secured to the horse and the tree. He veered right and breathed a gigantic sigh of relief when he reached the spot where he’d left his horse, Pirate. The black-and-white pinto-and-Appaloosa crossbreed had a patch of black around his right eye—hence the name. Gideon was exceptionally fond of his well-trained, reliable mount. Like himself, Pirate was of mixed breeding. The spirited stud was part of the prize herd Gideon and his brothers, Galen and Glenn, raised on their combined properties near Heartstrings River.

Ignoring his thoughts, Gideon dismounted Lori’s horse but kept a firm grip on the reins in case she tried to thunder off and force him to chase her down. He suspected she was skilled at losing herself in the wild tumble of mountains and rock-filled ravines in the Osage Hills.

Which is why the two-man posse chasing her had no luck overtaking her, he reminded himself.

However, Gideon had grown up in the Osage Hills and he’d tracked hundreds of outlaws across Indian Territory. He was damn good at his job, even if he did say so himself. His reputation preceded him. It provided him with an edge because most outlaws thought twice about crossing him. Of course, there were those—most of them dead and buried—who challenged him to back up his threats.

That wasn’t to say Gideon hadn’t been shot up, shot down and knifed on occasion—especially when the odds were stacked against him. Yet, by the grace of God and the Indian deities that were part of his culture, he was still alive and kicking.

“Nice horse,” Lori said when Gideon grabbed Pirate’s reins. “Did you steal him?”

“Very funny, hellion,” he muttered when she threw his sarcastic comment back in his face.

“Did you take the stallion as a trophy of war from a dead man, perhaps?” she asked flippantly.

Gideon slung his leg over the saddle then moved Pirate beside Drifter so he could check Lori’s saddlebag. “Wha’d ya know,” he drawled as he retrieved the pistol stashed in the leather pouch. He spun the cylinder to find one cartridge missing. “You must be a fair shot if you plugged your former lover with one bullet. I’ll remember that.”

“For the last time, I did not shoot Anthony Rogers,” she growled at him, her golden eyes flashing like hot sparks. “And yes, I am a skilled markswoman. Hand me the pistol and I’ll show you how accurate I am when provoked—”

He arched a brow and smiled wryly when she slammed her mouth shut so fast she nearly bit off her tongue. “That’s as good as a confession in my book, honey.”

When she sputtered furiously, he smothered a grin. He had to hand it to this fiery minx. She had spirit galore. Gideon appreciated that in his horse. He hadn’t thought he’d appreciate it quite so much in a woman. But he did, even though he really didn’t want to admire
any
qualities in this particular female. He was unwillingly attracted to her already.

That was more than enough to shatter his peace of mind.

He’d wrestled her to the ground, sprawled on top of her luscious body and shared a horse with her while she sat between his legs and in the circle of his arms. Being close to her had a disturbingly arousing effect on all his senses. His sixth sense included—the one that had helped him cheat death on several occasions. Now it warned him that this woman was a serious threat to him so he’d better watch out.

Leading Lori behind him—and checking over his shoulder at irregular intervals, just in case—he trotted over to retrieve Pecos Clem. The outlaw was overly distracted. Clem was staring blatantly at Lori’s enchanting face and her arresting feminine assets. For the life of him, Gideon didn’t know why Clem’s devouring gaze annoyed him. Gideon took up a position between his two prisoners so Clem couldn’t ogle Lori constantly.

“What’s your crime, sugar?” Clem drawled as he leaned around Gideon to give Lori the once-over again. “Being too damn pretty for your own good?”

To Lori’s credit, she met Clem’s leering gaze and said, “No, I was accused of killing the last man who looked at me the wrong way.”

Gideon concealed his laughter behind a cough when Clem shot her a glare and resettled himself in the saddle.

“I’d like a private word with you, Marshal, when we stop for a break,” she requested.

“I don’t schedule breaks.” He picked up the pace. “Camp is two hours away…if we set a fast clip.”

She scowled at him, but he ignored her as he trotted across the meadow and headed for the rugged hills.

Lori silently cursed Gideon for the next two hours. From time to time, she glared at the scraggly-haired, bewhiskered outlaw with a beak of a nose and close-set hazel eyes. The man leered at her every chance he got. She’d dealt with his kind on numerous occasions when travelers and stagecoach passengers passed by the trading post and ferry. She had been propositioned so many times in the past six years that she swore she had heard every line a man could dream up.

If Pecos Clem thought he could shock or impress her with his comments, he was sadly mistaken. Besides, he
couldn’t leave much of an impression on her because the brawny marshal rode between them, partially blocking her view of Clem.

Of course, Lori didn’t have time to pay any mind to Clem because she’d focused all her anger and frustration on Gideon.

Restlessly she twisted her hands. The cuffs were rubbing her wrists raw. If she’d known then what she knew now, she would have accepted Tony’s surprising proposal and ridden off with him before the bushwhacker aimed and fired.

Instead, she’d tried to be fair and honest with Tony. And what good did that do? He’d been killed and a hard-nosed marshal who saw her as a dollar sign had captured her. He refused to listen to her side of the story, damn him.

When they reached the rise of ground above the marshals’ encampment, which sat halfway up a hill, Lori realized that she would soon be housed in a jail wagon with six male prisoners. Frustration and disgust seized her, making her shiver apprehensively.

“I want to see to my needs before I find myself without the slightest privacy,” she blurted out.

She met Gideon’s speculative stare without batting an eye. No doubt, he was trying to figure out if this was an escape attempt, before he caged her like a wild animal.

After a long-suffering sigh, he nodded his raven head. “Okay, we’ll stop for a moment.” He glanced sternly at Clem. “What about you? You need to relieve yourself?”

“I’d like to relieve myself of my half-breed captor, if that’s what you’re asking,” Clem retorted.

Lori gauged Gideon’s reaction to the racist comment. He didn’t change expression, just tethered Clem and his mount to a nearby tree. Then he turned those intense blue eyes on her.

“Come on, hellion. Make it fast,” he murmured as he led her away from Clem.

To her outrage, he used a coil of rope like a leash so she couldn’t get more than ten feet away from him. “At least grant me minimal modesty and turn your head,” she grumbled as she circled behind the nearest bush.

He didn’t honor her request, just looked over her head while she struggled to tug down her breeches with her hands bound together.

“When you wind up in hell, Fox, I hope you’re forced to listen to stories from all the tormented souls you sent there
by mistake.
”

His gaze dropped to hers. “A lot of men have wished me in hell,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Be sure to add my name to that list,” she retaliated, and watched the makings of a smile twitch the sensuous curve of his lips.

Gideon Fox might enjoy watching her face turn candy-apple red from embarrassment because he wouldn’t grant her privacy, but somehow, someday, she vowed to have the last laugh. He could apologize until he lost his voice for refusing to believe she was innocent but she wouldn’t forgive him for putting her through this humiliation. That is,
if
Judge Parker didn’t sentence her to hang from the gallows before she located the man who really committed this awful crime against Tony.

With what little dignity Gideon allowed, Lori fastened herself up. She nearly tripped when he tugged on her leash unexpectedly. She glowered at him and said, “Shall I come to heel or sit up like a trick dog? Or is this humiliation enough to satisfy you for the time being?”

“It’s not my job to pamper you,” he assured her tartly.

“Gee, and I thought you were such a nice, accommodating fellow when I first met you,” she sassed him.

She wished she’d kept the comment to herself when he stepped toward her, eclipsing the sun that had finally fought its way through the fog. The same unwanted sensations of awareness and attraction that had been hounding her all day assailed her again.

She’d been unnerved when he sprawled on top of her and then encircled her in his sinewy arms while they rocked together suggestively on Drifter’s back. Even now, when she was as irritated with him as she could get, those shocking feelings of sexual excitement bombarded her.

She tilted her head to compensate for the difference between her and his six-foot-four-inch, rock-hard masculine body. A jolt of awareness zapped her again—much to her baffled amazement.

The man was practically standing on top of her, his powerful male body inches away from hers. He reminded her of the predatory panthers that roamed the Osage Hills. A lithe, powerful creature that called no one master. The ridiculous impulse to reach out to measure the breadth of his chest assailed her. How was it possible to dislike a man so much and still be physically attracted to him?

Clearly, witnessing Tony’s senseless death and running for her life had destroyed her sanity.

“Hellion,” he said as he leaned down to stick his ruggedly handsome face in hers, “I’ve tolerated your snippy comments long enough. I’ve reached my limit so hush up.”

“If you’ve reached your supposed limit, why didn’t you backhand Clem and send him cartwheeling off his horse after he made those disgusting, racist comments about your mixed heritage?
I
wanted to slap him for you and
I
don’t even like you very much myself.”

He arched a thick black brow and studied her intently
with those piercing blue eyes of his. “You don’t share Clem’s low opinion of my people?”

“My father taught me to live and let live,” she insisted. “I have nothing against the people we serve at the trading post. Indian or white, doesn’t matter. There’s an overabundance of cads and scoundrels from every race, creed and color, as far as I can tell.”

“Live and let live?”
he repeated caustically while he stared at her lips, making her wonder what it would be like to kiss him. “
Except
for former lovers who test your temper, you mean?”

The taunt ignited her fury in one second flat and made her wonder why she speculated about his kisses. Before she realized what she’d done, she plowed her manacled fists into his belly, forcing him to double over and gasp for breath. When he reflexively lowered his head to protect himself, she upraised her bound hands and smacked his chin. His head snapped back as he stumbled and fell into a graceless sprawl.

L
ori wheeled around to escape from the infuriating marshal who tormented and humiliated her to no end. She yanked on the leash, hoping he’d lose his grasp, but he held on tightly. She yelped when he jerked hard, pulling her off balance. Before she hit the ground, he was looming over her, looking as fierce and deadly as any four-legged predator she’d ever encountered.

“Don’t try to escape because you’ll never win,” he growled harshly.

“If I hadn’t been half-starved these past few days, I’d have had the strength to put up a better fight,” she blurted before she could bite back the remark.

“It was fight enough, hellion. But it damn well better be the last because I won’t go this easy on you next time.”

“You call this going easy?” She gave an unladylike sniff and glared in defiance.

“If you get on my bad side,
honey,
I guarantee that I will make your life miserable,” he said menacingly.

“I suspect that all your sides are bad sides,” she countered before good sense warned her to shut her mouth.

Curse it, her knee-jerk reaction was to sass him. It was like asking to die. She couldn’t understand why she couldn’t restrain her rebelliousness when he looked so ominous.

“I just gave you a test and you failed it.”

She grumbled under her breath. She should’ve known he’d purposely provoked her. And she was too sensitive to everything he said and did. Consequently, her temper got the better of her and she’d reacted the same way she did to men’s unwanted advances. She fought back. It was a natural reflex.

“Not only are you willing but also quite
capable
of violence,” he told her as he eased down on her hips to restrict her movement. “You
provoked
me to retaliate,” she muttered begrudgingly. “You bring out the worst in me.”

“I’m left to wonder if your former lover
refused
to marry you and
that’s
why you shot him.”

“That is not what happened and I don’t like you at all, Gideon Fox,” she said with a spiteful hiss.

“I can live with that.” He stared intently at her. “Are you carrying his child and he rejected you?”

His suspicion outraged her. “No, I’m not!”

To her further frustration, having Gideon sitting on her in such a suggestive manner left her thoughts galloping off in the most improper direction. She could not possibly be attracted to this maddening marshal…could she? He taunted her, provoked her, tested her…and
still
she lay here wondering how she would respond if he leaned down and kissed her, despite the stubble of his five o’clock shadow that had progressed past the shadow stage days earlier.

She’d gone insane. That was the only logical explanation.

Her emotions were in the worst possible turmoil. An unknown assailant had shot at her accidentally. Tony had died tragically. Two hired hands from the stage station—and maybe the killer himself—were chasing after her. She’d gone to Gideon Fox for protection and he had arrested her.

Fool that she was, she’d looked to him for comfort and support and he believed her to be guilty—without bothering to open an investigation.

Her thoughts scattered when his raven head moved deliberately toward hers. The air practically popped and crackled between them as he settled his sensuous lips over hers. The scrape of his whiskers was in direct contrast to the surprisingly gentle manner that he stole the breath right out of her lungs. His tongue glided into her mouth and he breathed new life into her.

Lori closed her eyes involuntarily. When he settled suggestively on top of her, the tension melted from her body and she instinctively shifted beneath him, unsure what she wanted or needed, but she definitely needed something his mind-boggling kisses only hinted at.

This man—her sworn enemy who believed the worst about her—was not supposed to taste like heaven or make her feel these warm, throbbing sensations that left no part of her body untouched. But he did.

Before she realized what she’d done, she looped her bound hands over his head and emulated his arousing technique. Suddenly she was ravishing his mouth as he’d ravaged hers. She matched him, kiss for impatient kiss, using everything he had unknowingly taught her. She hoped he felt half as devastated as she did while they were chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip and kiss-to-breathless-kiss.

She shifted restlessly as he nudged his knee between
her legs. The erotic sensations he incited took on a life of their own as she breathed him in, tasted him, teased him as he teased her with tantalizing kisses that seemed to go on forever.

His hands moved over the fabric covering her breasts and she arched helplessly into him when the fire of desire burned brighter, more intense. She forgot to breathe when his hand settled between her legs, touching her in that secret place where she burned for him the most.

Then, while she lay breathless, yielding and starving for something she couldn’t name, he reared back, nearly jerking her arms from her shoulder sockets. Scowling, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her bound arms over his head. He stared at her with the strangest expression, as if she had somehow betrayed him. Though why he would think any such thing made no sense to her. Honestly,
nothing
about the last few minutes made any sense to her.

“I suppose I just failed another of your mysterious tests, Marshal Fox,” she said, her voice nowhere near as steady as she’d hoped. “I consider it very unfair that you don’t give me time to study for these spur-of-the-moment tests.”

His expression transformed into a scowl as he hauled her to her feet and set her away from him. He said not one word as he shepherded her back to where Clem was tethered to his horse and the tree, then tossed her unceremoniously on Drifter’s back. Then he tied her hands and feet in place.

While they rode toward camp, with Clem in tow, Lori forcefully discarded the memory of kissing Gideon Hard-Hearted Fox for all she was worth and of him kissing her back with the same wild, reckless desperation. She fixed her attention on the three marshals guarding the wagon where five outlaws sat cross-legged in a six-by-eight-foot jail cage.

“This is what the first level of my private hell looks like,” she murmured to herself as they approached camp.

It’s what she deserved for kissing Gideon Fox…and liking it so much.

Gideon cursed himself up one side and down the other for his unprofessional mishandling of Lori’s escape attempt and the subsequent embrace. Damn the woman! She’d stunned him by knocking the air out of him. If she’d hit him harder with her doubled fists she could’ve broken his jaw, but she knew how much pressure to apply without maiming. Her double-fisted uppercut had jarred him. And embarrassed the hell out of him.

So naturally, he’d punished her by kissing her—and inadvertently punished himself to the extreme.

Hell and damn! Was he out of his mind? Must be. There was no other reasonable explanation for his inexcusable behavior. Unless you counted being bewitched by a wicked siren that lured him into the depths of forbidden desire and left him drowning in erotic pleasure.

Gideon was thoroughly ashamed of kissing her—and yearning for another taste of her. He’d tested her temper on purpose and he’d provoked her to retaliate. Unfortunately, he’d also discovered that no matter how mad she made him, he couldn’t resist kissing her lush pink lips, sinking into her soft body and skimming his hands over her tantalizing curves and swells.

Gideon decided he was more than ready for a mental and physical break from the grueling demands of chasing fugitives, sleeping with one eye open and standing at the ready to fight for his life. Dealing with criminals who’d just as soon kill him as look at him was wearing him down. Hence, his absurd reaction to the lady renegade he toted to camp.

When he reached camp, every pair of male eyes zeroed in on Lori. Her trim-fitting clothing called entirely too much attention to her tempting body. Fellow marshals and outlaws alike drooled and fantasized about doing the same thing he’d done several minutes earlier.

He had no reason whatsoever to feel protective or possessive, just because he’d impulsively kissed this seductive woman who was wanted for murder.

You’d think the charges against her would be deterrent enough. But no, he’d ignored common sense in his reckless desire to taste her and touch her.

Gideon shifted his attention to Pecos Clem, who was glaring hot pokers at his two cohorts—the men Gideon had forcefully persuaded to give up their leader’s hiding place.

“Nice work, Fox,” Deputy U.S. Marshal Stephen Wilson remarked while he made a close inspection of Lori’s feminine assets—and she had plenty of them, damn it. Then Phen dragged his eyes off her long enough to glance questioningly at Gideon. “Who is she, and does she have a few sisters who look just like her?”

The other men snickered at Phen’s question…until Gideon said, “This is Lorelei Russell. Remember the name?”

The three marshals studied her speculatively then frowned. A moment later Deputy U.S. Marshal Noel Perkins strode over to untie Pecos Clem’s feet from the stirrups then hauled him to the ground. “Your friends have been missing you, Clem. Glad you can join them.”

Dismounting, Gideon walked over to untie Lori’s feet. Instead of pulling her none too gently from the saddle, as Perkins had done to Clem, he clamped his hands on her narrow waist…and wished the hell he hadn’t. Touching her again, no matter how inadvertently or innocently, sparked
fiery sensations and memories of their scorching-hot kisses. The minute her feet touched the ground he set her away from him, as if he’d been burned—because that’s exactly how he felt.

While she stared up at him, her golden eyes smoldering with anger and resentment, he turned away. He gestured to the three marshals who waited introduction.

“Lorelei Russell, these are my compatriots. Phen Wilson, Noel Perkins and Mitch Hines. They ride for Parker, same as I do.” He gestured toward the jail wagon. “Two of the men in the cage are with Pecos Clem. The other three are Chester Felding, Leland Bates and Ambrose Thomas. They are wanted in Missouri for bank robbery and assault.”

Lori surveyed the scruffy men in the metal cage, then inwardly cringed at the prospect of being stuffed in the mobile jail with them. Felding, who had a square face, bulky shoulders and a missing front tooth, leered at her as if she were standing naked. Thomas, a frizzy red-haired, overweight prisoner with arms and legs like tree stumps, licked his lips as if she were his next meal.

Bates reminded her of a rat with his pointy nose, dark, beady eyes and scarecrow-thin features. His leer made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Clem’s two cohorts were no better. The scraggly scoundrels ogled her unblinkingly, making her squirm uncomfortably.

Repulsed, she shifted her attention to the three deputy marshals who scrutinized her closely.
Better the devil I know,
she thought, glancing sideways at Gideon. Then again, she might find compassion in one of the other lawmen.

She hadn’t found it in Gideon Tough-As-Nails-Fox.

Lori tossed around a polite smile to Phen Wilson, the lanky, blond-haired marshal with pale blue eyes, high
cheekbones and a cleft in his chin. He looked to be thirty-five or thereabouts.

Noel Perkins was about the same age as Phen Wilson. He had straight brown hair and hazel eyes. He was thick-chested, stocky and not as tall as Gideon, who towered over everyone.

Mitch Hines had a friendly smile and Lori hoped she could count on him for the simplest of necessities during her captivity. She nodded a greeting to Mitch, whose gray eyes swept over her in careful assessment a second time. His sandy blond head was a little too big for his narrow shoulders, but she predicted he was quick of foot and as agile as a cat.

She wouldn’t want to get into a footrace with him during an escape attempt—if and when she could manage one.

The impulse to flee suddenly assailed her and she shifted restlessly from one scuffed boot to the other.

“Don’t even think about it,” Gideon murmured, as if he’d read her mind, damn him. “The odds are not in your favor. There isn’t an incompetent lawman in the bunch.”

“The odds are against me no matter where I go,” she grumbled. “You refuse to listen to my side of the story and you won’t accompany me home to investigate.”

When he infuriated her by tugging on the rope leash still attached to her metal bracelets, she glared holes in his broad back. Lori had never felt so outraged and powerless and she never wanted to feel this way again. It was humiliating and exasperating and she blamed all her woes on Gideon Fox.

He was so blasted mistrusting and cynical…and it incensed her to no end this bullheaded marshal physically appealed to her. She thought she had better taste in men!

“What are you going to do with her?” Phen Wilson
asked. “We can’t cage her with those men and you damn well know it.”

Gideon glanced this way and that. “We’ll stake her out under a shade tree,” he suggested.

Perkins glanced over at Lori and frowned. “That sounds a little harsh. She’s a woman.”

“A woman wanted for murder,” Gideon reminded him. “She didn’t show her last lover much sympathy.”

Lori stamped her foot in frustration. “He was not my lover,” she protested. “He was my friend and I didn’t kill him. For all I know my friend was hiding out in the territory, like your prisoners, and a bounty hunter identified him, shot him and claimed the reward for Tony after I left. I might have been cleared of this disastrous mistake—” she doubted it, but there was an outside chance “—but Marshal Fox refuses to take me back to find out for certain!”

As the other three marshals stared pensively at her she kept talking, hoping to sway them into being lenient and volunteering to check out her story. “Please consider that I’m upset about Tony’s death. It’s bad enough that he proposed and I turned him down right before someone ambushed him and very nearly shot me in the process. There are questions that need to be answered!”

“Why’d you turn him down?” Mitch Hines asked curiously.