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Lady Renegade
Carol Finch
Indulge your fantasies of delicious Regency Rakes, fierce Viking warriors and rugged Highlanders. Be swept away into a world of intense passion, lavish settings and romance that burns brightly through the centuriesCarol is an Oklahoma resident, with Native American heritage. She attended Odessa College in Texas on a tennis scholarship, then graduated from Oklahoma State University with a B. Sc. degree. She has earned hours toward a masters at Southwestern University, Oklahoma. Before making a full-time career of writing, Carol taught high school biology.Carol began writing while her children were preschool age. She gave up her teaching career to be a stay-at-home-mom on their isolated family ranch. After reducing life to the simplest explanations to answer her young children's questions, she decided to try her hand at writing to see if she could still communicate intelligibly with adults. After two years of keeping vampire hours to write after the children were tucked in bed, her first book was published.She progressed to writing during the day when her children were in school. During her 20-year career, Carol has penned 73 books under five pseudonyms in several genres. In her spare time and there hasn't been much of it because she never missed her children's school activities or baseball and basketball games.Carol likes to garden, do carpentry projects, and help her husband, Ed, with farming chores on their 400-acre ranch. Over the years they have raised cattle, wheat, sheep, pigs, chickens, rabbits, turkeys, and peacocks, plus dozens of cats, dogs, and horses. The place is a zoo and that's the way Carol likes it.Carol, formerly a nationally ranked tennis player in high school and college, traded her racket for golf clubs. She's still the outdoorsy type at heart, although writing has become one of her greatest passions right behind her husband, children, and young grandchildren.



Gideon noticed movement in the shifting fog.
A shapely female in her early twenties emerged from the hazy shadows of trees and underbrush. Her long hair caught in the sparkling sunlight and danced like red-and-gold flames. She wore brown, trim fitting breeches that accentuated the shapely curve of her hips and a white shirt that molded itself provocatively to her full breasts.
Honest to goodness, Gideon had never seen a woman so captivating and alluring in all his thirty-two years of vast and varied experience. If there were angels sent down from above, he’d like to think this was what an angel looked like. Either that or she was one of the Native American spirit guides he’d heard described by his Osage mother.
And yet, a quiet voice inside his head whispered, Here comes trouble, and the cynic he’d become paid close attention.

Lady Renegade
Harlequin
Historical #1017—November 2010

Praise for
Carol Finch
“Carol Finch is known for her lightning-fast, roller-coaster-ride adventure romances that are brimming over with a large cast of characters and dozens of perilous escapades.”
—RT Book Reviews
The Kansas Lawman’s Proposal
“Fast-paced, sensual… One of the genre’s top-notch Western writers delivers the expected in a tale that’s as classic as they come.”
—RT Book Reviews
Texas Ranger, Runaway Heiress
“Finch offers another heartwarming Western romance full of suspense, humor and strong characters…It’s hard to put this one down.”
—RT Book Reviews
McCavett’s Bride
“For wild adventures, humor and Western atmosphere, Finch can’t be beat. She fires off her quick-paced novels with the crack of a rifle and creates the atmosphere of the Wild West through laugh-out-loud dialogue and escapades that keep you smiling.”
—RT Book Reviews
The Ranger’s Woman
“Finch delivers her signature humor, along with a big dose of colorful Texas history, in a love and laughter romp.”
—RT Book Reviews
Lone Wolf’s Woman
“As always, Finch provides frying-pan-into-the-fire action that keeps the pages flying, then spices up her story with not one, but two romances, sensuality and strong emotions.”
—RT Book Reviews

Carol Finch
Lady Renegade





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Available from Harlequin
Historical and CAROL FINCH
Call of the White Wolf #592
Bounty Hunter’s Bride #635
Oklahoma Bride #686
Texas Bride #711
One Starry Christmas #723
“Home for Christmas”
The Last Honest Outlaw #732
The Ranger’s Woman #748
Lone Wolf’s Woman #778

(#litres_trial_promo)The Ranger #805

(#litres_trial_promo)Fletcher’s Woman #832
McCavett’s Bride #852
Cooper’s Woman #897
The Bounty Hunter and the Heiress #909
Texas Ranger, Runaway Heiress #927
Cowboy Christmas #963
“A Husband for Christmas”
The Kansas Lawman’s Proposal #976
Bandit Lawman, Texas Bride #995
Lady Renegade #1017
Other works include:
Silhouette Special Edition
Not Just Another Cowboy #1242
Soul Mates #1320
Harlequin American Romance
Cupid and the Cowboy #1055
Harlequin Duets
Fit To Be Tied #36
A Regular Joe #45
Mr. Predictable #62
The Family Feud #72

(#litres_trial_promo)Lonesome Ryder? #81

(#litres_trial_promo)Restaurant Romeo #81

(#litres_trial_promo)Fit To Be Frisked #105

(#litres_trial_promo)Mr. Cool Under Fire #105
This book is dedicated to my husband, Ed, and our children, Kurt, Shawnna, Jill, Jon, Christie and Durk. And to our grandchildren, Livia, Harleigh, Blake, Kennedy, Dillon and Brooklynn. And to Kurt and Shawnna’s children, whenever they may be. Hugs and kisses!

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen

Chapter One
Osage Nation, Indian Territory
Early 1880s
Lorelei Russell halted her strawberry roan gelding in the copse of trees overlooking Burgess Ranch and Stage Station. A well-manicured two-story clapboard house, a stage station, three wooden sheds and an oversize barn sat in the lush valley. The spring sunset cast filtered light and shadows in the trees, giving the Osage Hills a fanciful quality.
Dismounting, Lorelei patted her horse, Drifter, affectionately then received a nudge from him on her elbow in response. Hiking off, she reread the note she’d received from Anthony Rogers, foreman at Burgess Ranch.
She had meant to stop by earlier in the day, but she and her father had been busy unloading the delivery wagon that had arrived at their trading post and ferry on Winding River. Then she had made a delivery to a homebound customer before stopping by to see Anthony.
Lorelei had hoped to return home by dark, but Russell’s Trading Post was ten miles south of the station on the stagecoach route. Although the territory had become a refuge for outlaws that holed up in thickly timbered hills and rocky gorges, Lorelei had lived the last decade of her twenty-three years in the area. Her father, a former military officer, had made certain she could take care of herself. She was very familiar with the tree-choked hillsides of the Osage reservation and she could protect herself with a variety of weapons.
Her wandering thoughts trailed off when she glanced at Anthony’s note again. The honest truth was she had procrastinated in stopping by to see Anthony. He had been courting her for over three months but her feelings for him hadn’t progressed past the friendship stage. Unfortunately, she had the impression that Anthony had developed the kind of affection for her that she couldn’t return. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attractive, with his sandy-blond hair, thick-lashed blue eyes and lean physique. He just wasn’t…
She sighed heavily. She wasn’t sure what love was, but she didn’t think this was it.
“Thank goodness you’re here.” Anthony suddenly appeared from the deepening shadows to envelop her in a hug. “I was getting worried, sweetheart.”
“Papa and I have been busy with inventory and customers,” she explained as she backed from his embrace.
He nodded and smiled. “I should have come to the trading post since we’re running low on a few supplies, but I’ve had dozens of last-minute chores to wrap up here.”
“Last-minute?” she repeated curiously.
He reached out to trail his forefinger over her cheek. “I have a confession, Lori,” he murmured as he stared deeply into her eyes. “Every hour I’ve spent with you leaves me wanting to spend even more.”
Lori smiled weakly, but she didn’t have the heart to lead Tony on by saying that she felt the same. When he clutched both of her hands in his own, she tensed. He looked so serious, almost impatient to spew out the words she didn’t want to hear.
To her dismay, he went down on one knee and stared up at her with a hopeful smile. “I’m in love with you, Lori. I want you to marry me and come away with me so we can make a clean break and a fresh start. We can go wherever your heart desires. Colorado, California, Montana. Anyplace you say.”
Her jaw sagged but she couldn’t formulate a sentence when her mind was whirling like a cyclone. He wanted her to elope with him? Leave the territory abruptly? Why?
Tony never spoke much about his past and now she wondered why. Was he a wanted man? Was the law about to catch up with him? Did he feel the desperate need to run for his life?
She knew that Judge Isaac Parker in Fort Smith had sent out several dozen Deputy U.S. Marshals to apprehend outlaws that fled into the territory in hopes of outrunning their crimes. Had someone recognized Tony from a Wanted poster and turned him in?
“Lori? Sweetheart?” Tony squeezed her hand. “Will you do me the honor of marrying me? We can be off tonight so we can begin our new life together and leave this place far behind.”
Lori pulled Tony to his feet. “Why do you want to leave the territory in such a rush?” she questioned intently.
Tony glanced this way and that, provoking more questions she wanted answered. “I hadn’t meant to fall in love with you, Lori, but it just happened. You fascinate me. I want you to come with me. We can leave tonight. Right now. I have money saved up for our trip.”
He certainly avoided her questions, leaving her to suspect that he was a fugitive of justice. Her concern escalated when he kept glancing every which way, as if he anticipated trouble.
“Will you?” he persisted. “I promise I’ll take good care of you, Lori.”
Lori didn’t need a man to take care of her. Her father had spent years ensuring his only surviving child could handle herself with a pistol, rifle and knife and manage several hand-to-hand combat maneuvers. She’d perfected those skills while dealing with several unsavory characters that stopped at the trading post and used the ferry that transported passengers, wagons, stagecoaches and horses across the river.
“I’m sorry, Tony,” she said as gently as she knew how. “You are a dear friend and you know I treasure your companionship. But—”
“But you don’t feel the same way I do,” he interrupted in disappointment. His broad shoulders slumped but he nodded acceptance. “You can’t blame a man for asking. I know I’m not your first proposal.”
“None of them have been as flattering and tempting as yours,” she replied honestly.
“At least I have that. I’ll miss you like crazy, sweetheart.”
When he eased closer to kiss her goodbye Lori sincerely wished she could feel something besides a lukewarm reaction to his embrace. Nevertheless, her heart knew what it felt and there was no convincing it otherwise. She tried to be honest, especially with herself. She couldn’t give Tony what he wanted. She refused to consider marriage until she discovered that unique feeling her father claimed he had shared with her mother, even years after she and her young son had succumbed to diphtheria.
Her wandering thoughts broke off and she snapped to attention when she heard a crackling of twigs in the underbrush. Heavy shadows enveloped the trees, concealing whoever or whatever lurked in the near distance. Tony muttered a curse when a gunshot rang out in the gathering darkness. Lori heard a bullet whistle past her head before it plugged into a tree beside them. She tried to object when Tony tucked her protectively behind him. She tugged on his arm to bustle both of them behind a tree for protection, but another gunshot erupted before they reached cover.
She knew the instant the bullet found its mark. Tony staggered against her, gasping for breath. When another shot ripped through the trees, Lori grabbed one of the pistols in Tony’s double holster and returned fire. She heard the thrashing in the underbrush and thud of horses’ hooves. But her focus was on Tony, who crumpled to the ground.
“Sweet mercy,” she whispered when she saw the bloodstains spreading quickly across the left side of Tony’s shirt.
She dropped to her knees beside him when he lifted his hand to her.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this. But I do love you. Now run! Get out of here before it’s too late.”
His apology baffled her. Why did she need to escape? Was she considered guilty by association? Escape from whom? Who was after him? A bounty hunter who had discovered Anthony Rogers’s true identity and tracked him down? What had Tony done that earned him a bushwhacking?
“Go…now…” He panted for breath as he clutched his chest.
“No, I want to help you,” she insisted, using his kerchief to stem the flow of blood oozing from his wound.
Almost frantic now, Tony shoved at her hands, but she could tell he was losing strength with each passing second.
“Go, damn it. Get out of here! If you care anything about me at all, you’ll do as I say and flee for your own safety!”
Stumbling to her feet, Lori looked around, wondering if Maggie Burgess, the widowed owner of the station and ranch or one of the hired hands had heard the shots. Where was the help Tony desperately needed?
A moment later, she saw Maggie appear from the corner of the station where stagecoach travelers took their meals.
“Over here!” Lori yelled. “We need help!”
Maggie clutched the front of her skirts and raced across the lawn toward the copse of trees.
“Damn it, get out of here!” Tony mumbled weakly. “Please, sweetheart. It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you. Go…”
When his lashes fluttered shut and he sagged lifelessly on the ground Lori backed up four paces. Frantic, confused and uncertain where the sniper lurked, she wheeled toward her horse, Tony’s pistol still clutched in her fist.
“Oh, my God!” Maggie Burgess wailed as she raced toward Tony’s unmoving form. She glared at the gun in Lori’s hand and then at Tony. “You killed him! Why? Because you chased after him and he wanted nothing to do with you? You little tramp!”
“I didn’t kill him,” Lori protested as she scanned the darkness, in case the killer was waiting to dispose of all of them. “We need to take cover before more shots are fired.”
“You’re a liar!” the brunette railed as she dropped down beside Tony. “Now what am I to do? I’ve lost my husband and now you’ve murdered my foreman. Who will help me run my business? How will I survive?”
When Maggie grabbed the spare pistol, Lori was certain the grief-crazed widow intended to shoot her for the crime she falsely presumed Lori had committed. As Maggie clutched the pistol in both hands and raised it to fire, Lori darted behind the nearest tree. The shot zinged past her, compelling her to run for her life.
“Whore!” Maggie screeched, then fired off another shot. “Murderess! Sonny! Teddy! Come quickly. The killer is trying to get away! Hurry!”
Lori sprinted toward her horse, grateful she was wearing her usual attire of breeches and shirt so she could move swiftly and agilely.
On her best days, Lori couldn’t compete with Maggie Burgess’s stylish clothing. But then, Maggie didn’t have to vault onto a horse and race into the night to avoid capture.
“What happened, Mizz Burgess?”
Lori glanced back to see the silhouettes of Sonny Hathaway and Teddy Collins, two of the hired hands, racing uphill toward Maggie.
“Lorelei Russell just killed Tony!” Maggie wailed. “Stop her before she circles back to the trading post to seek her father’s protection!”
Maggie’s command sealed Lori’s escape route, forcing her to ride toward the wild tumble of timbered hills so she wouldn’t drag her father into this horrible misunderstanding. She hoped when Maggie had time to calm down and review the situation she’d realize that Lori hadn’t fired the fatal shot.
Lori nudged Drifter in the flanks and he took off like a shot, zigzagging through the trees to put more distance between her and the two hired hands sent to pursue her. She swore she could still hear Maggie screeching like a banshee, but Lori didn’t look back. She held on to the saddle horn and curled over Drifter’s neck to make certain a low-hanging tree limb didn’t knock her off the galloping horse.
She allowed herself to spill the tears that had clouded her eyes when she’d realized Tony was beyond help. Now she could cry for her lost friend and curse herself for rejecting his marriage proposal. It broke her heart, knowing Tony had offered his love and she’d turned him down—the moment before the fatal gunshot ended his life at the young age of thirty.
In addition, Maggie Burgess was so beside herself with grief and fury that she’d shot at Lori. She felt sorry for the young widow who was only six or seven years older than Lori.
Maggie had married Hubert Burgess who was sixteen years her senior. Two months ago, Hub’s horse had bucked him off while he was chasing cattle rustlers and he’d died instantly. Maggie had yet to recover from her anguish, and now someone had shot and killed her ranch foreman, leaving her grief-stricken, desperate and feeling abandoned and overwhelmed.
Lori’s thoughts scattered in the wind when she heard the thunder of hoofbeats behind her. The report of a rifle shattered the silence. Lori plastered herself against Drifter’s neck and urged the gelding into his fastest pace as he scrambled uphill. The flare from a discharging rifle caught her attention and she frowned, bemused. The shot came from the west, not the south where Sonny and Teddy rode in hot pursuit.
Was the bushwhacker who had killed Tony after her, too? A cold chill slithered down her spine when she remembered Tony had stepped in front of her like a shield to take the fatal shot. By all rights, she should be dead right now. She would have been the innocent victim struck by the killer’s careless shot in the darkness. Whatever Tony had done in his past to draw gunfire, he’d committed a selfless act. He didn’t deserve to die! she thought remorsefully.
Lori muffled a sniff and tried to block out the awful scene that kept replaying itself in her mind. She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted while racing to safety with two hired hands chasing her, as well as the sniper, who evidently had circled to the west to shoot at her.
Guided by the light of the moon, Lori headed toward the wild, broken Osage Hills where deep gulches and rock-and-timber hilltops offered protection. She cringed, knowing the grief-stricken widow and the hired hands believed the worst about her. They planned to take the law into their own hands to see her pay for a crime she didn’t commit.
Glancing uneasily around her, she held on as Drifter scrabbled uphill, weaving his way around oversize boulders and trees. She knew bears and panthers roamed the area, not to mention vagabond outlaws. Not counting the two-man posse and the mysterious sniper who had killed Tony.
She squeezed her eyes shut and choked on a sob. She hoped that wherever Anthony Rogers was—and no matter what he’d done in his secretive past—he could hear her silent apology and he’d forgive her for turning him down. The thought of never seeing Tony again tormented her to no end, especially when she’d sent him off to the Hereafter with her rejection echoing around him.
Five days later
Deputy U.S. Marshal Gideon Fox scrunched down in the bushes, watching the outlaw known as Pecos Clem Murphy build his morning campfire in the valley between two steep embankments in the Osage Hills. Despite the thick fog that cloaked the valley, Gideon hadn’t had trouble tracking Pecos Clem—thanks to the man’s cohorts. They had been all too happy to offer Gideon directions—after he’d applied some unfriendly persuasion.
Clem whistled while he worked. The former Texas cowboy and his brigands had turned to cattle rustling and horse thieving and had been hiding out in Indian Territory for several months. But very soon, Clem would rejoin his two friends, who were sitting in the jail wagon at marshal headquarters.
Gideon crept closer to the stubble-faced, scraggly-haired outlaw. When Gideon noticed the trip wire six inches in front of his boot, he stopped dead in his tracks. He glanced speculatively from the wire to Clem. No wonder the wily outlaw was lounging by the campfire, looking carefree and unconcerned while he brewed his morning coffee. The sneaky bastard was inviting Gideon to come closer and fall into a trap.
Giving Clem more credit than he did previously, Gideon stepped over the booby trap and surveyed the area. If he were Clem, he’d set another trip wire. Sure enough, partially concealed by fallen leaves and twigs, another trip wire awaited Gideon. But he carefully avoided it.
He’d seen all kinds of schemes and traps during his years as a member of the Osage Reservation Police Force and then as a commissioned deputy marshal serving the federal court in Fort Smith. Dealing with Clem served to remind Gideon of his motto: Don’t believe everything you hear or see. And don’t trust anyone but yourself and your own family.
Gideon had seen too many men die with stunned expressions on their faces. He didn’t plan to join the ranks of the departed.
Crouching in the underbrush near a tree, Gideon grabbed his dagger from his boot then hurled it into the tree stump where Clem sat. Wheeling quickly, Clem fired off three shots that sailed ten feet over Gideon’s hiding place. Then Gideon tossed a broken tree limb to his left and watched Clem fire off two more shots. The outlaw was lightning-quick with his pistol.
“Show yourself!” Clem barked. “Only cowards crawl and slither on their bellies in the grass.”
Gideon had been taunted, ridiculed and baited scores of times and he really didn’t give a damn about an outlaw’s opinion of him. Clem could call him The Devil Himself and it wouldn’t faze Gideon. His objective was to rid his people’s land of the thieves and murderers that invaded the territory to escape the law from neighboring states.
“You gonna show yourself, yellow-belly?” Clem taunted.
Gideon didn’t reply, just surveyed the campsite once again. Since Clem wore double hostlers on his hips, Gideon figured the outlaw had seven shots left in his six-shooters. Plus, he had access to Gideon’s dagger—and perhaps a dagger of his own. Also, there was an empty scabbard on the saddle Clem had used as his pillow for sleeping. Gideon predicted there was also a rifle tucked under the pallet.
“Friend or foe?” Clem demanded impatiently. “Coffee’s ready. You coming in or not?”
Gideon glanced overhead then grabbed another broken limb to hurl upward.
“Hell!” Clem growled when he heard the clatter in the tree above him.
Since Clem expected someone to drop down on him, Gideon took advantage of the distraction and charged forward. By the time Clem realized the threat was behind him, not above him, Gideon slammed into his back and knocked away the pistol. Clem went down with a grunt and groan then spewed profanity. Before Clem could roll away to grab a dagger or his pistol, Gideon snatched up his knife and pressed it into Clem’s throat.
“Wanted dead or alive, according to Judge Parker,” Gideon snarled threateningly. “You decide how you want to meet him. As for me, I’d just as soon toss your sorry carcass over the back of a horse and let the undertaker deal with you.”
Clem glanced over his thick shoulder. “Who are you?”
“Deputy U.S. Marshal Gideon Fox.” He manacled Clem’s wrists then hauled him to his feet.
“Well damn,” Clem muttered. “I ain’t been in the territory too long but I’ve heard of you and none of it’s good. A real bastard who’ll chase a man to the gates of hell…and beyond, I’m told. A blue-eyed half-breed to boot. I never did care much for Injuns.”
“Quit flattering me. It’ll get you nowhere.”

From Lori’s hiding place behind a boulder on the hillside, she watched the tall, muscular man, wearing black breeches, a dark shirt, leather vest and boots move through the soupy fog like a shadow within a shadow to capture the outlaw. The man who claimed to be a Deputy U.S. Marshal was exceptionally quick on his feet and handy with weapons.
Although Lori had overheard the conversation, she was leery about approaching the lawman. But after holing up in caves for five days—and encountering one unsociable panther, while dodging Sonny Hathaway and Teddy Collins—she decided a lawman could offer legal protection. She needed to tell her side of the story about the murder and clear her name. Plus, whoever had killed Tony was running loose, which meant she was still in danger.
Lori had grieved the loss of her friend as she had washed his blood from her shirt in a nearby stream.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to wash away the torturous memory of that tragic night.
Several of Tony’s comments continued to baffle her. She welcomed a formal investigation that would give her the opportunity to make her statement and find the man who shot Tony. Whatever had been going on that fateful night, Lori owed her life to Tony, who’d taken the fatal bullet for her.
Her regretful thoughts trailed off and she came to attention after the lawman had captured the outlaw. Now was the time to pick her way down the rugged hillside to introduce herself to the lawman. Mentally rehearsing what she intended to say, Lori led Drifter around the trees and boulders, then tethered him. She could only hope the Deputy U.S. Marshal would offer protection and agree to accompany her back to Russell Trading Post to clear her name and reassure her father that she was alive.

Gideon pushed Clem ahead of him, just in case there was another booby trap strategically situated between Clem and his stolen horse. When Clem halted, trying to lure Gideon into taking the lead and dragging him forward to spring the trap, Gideon stayed put.
“We can still do this the easy way,” Gideon breathed down Clem’s neck. “I can shove you into the trip wire and you can shoot yourself. You’ll be as dead as a man can get. Not me. I’ll be around to collect your bounty and the reward.”
“You’re all heart, Fox,” Clem said and scowled.
“I hear that a lot… Now move.”
Muttering, Clem stepped over the booby trap.
“Where’d you learn to set traps?” Gideon asked conversationally as he quick-marched Clem to his stolen horse—the evidence needed to stick him in Judge Parker’s jail, awaiting a prison sentence.
“I rode with Confederate raiders in Kansas during the war.” Clem glanced back at Gideon and smirked disrespectfully. “Where’d you learn to avoid ’em? In Injun warrior training school?”
“Sure. I graduated at the head of my class,” Gideon replied without missing a beat. “I get even better at it while dealing with former guerilla fighters like you. I have a lot of practical experience with sneaky, lying, cheating, thieving white men.”
Swearing foully, Pecos Clem tugged on the rope Gideon had used to tie him to the tree. Although Clem called Gideon several rude, disrespectful names, he ignored them and saddled the gray stallion. According to the reports delivered to the marshals’ mobile headquarters, Pecos Clem and his two cohorts had raided an Osage ranch and stolen several horses. The gray was the last one recovered.
“How’d you find me?” Clem sniped as Gideon hoisted him onto the horse then tied his feet to the stirrups. “Did my backstabbing friends squeal on me? Damn those rascals!”
“Nope, I smelled you two miles away,” Gideon replied.
“I’m not the stinking Injun around here. You are,” he muttered hatefully. “We ran off your redskin cousins in Texas and herded them into this territory. If it was up to me, you and your kind would be dead and gone.”
Gideon’s response was a snort. Clem could spout insults until he ran out of breath. Gideon was ridding Indian reservations in the territory of white criminals and he was protecting his people from harm. That’s what mattered.
“You hear what I said, Injun?” Clem ridiculed. “I—”
His voice trailed off at the same moment that Gideon noticed movement in the shifting fog. The sun broke free briefly, leaving a pocket of light shimmering on the hillside. A shapely female in her early twenties emerged from the hazy shadows of trees and underbrush. Her long curly hair caught in the sparkling sunlight and danced like red-and-gold flames.
She was tall—maybe five foot six inches, he guessed. Plus, she was all too alluring in brown, trim-fitting breeches that accentuated the shapely curve of her hips and the white shirt that molded itself provocatively to her full breasts.
He blinked twice, wondering if he was seeing a mirage or some sort of mystical apparition. The shifting fog and glittering spears of sunlight gave the woman an ethereal quality impossible to ignore. The world seemed eerily still and Gideon stood transfixed. Even Pecos Clem seemed too dazed to attempt escape while Gideon was hopelessly distracted.
Honest to goodness, Gideon had never seen a woman so captivating and alluring in all his thirty-two years of vast and varied experience. If there were white men’s angels sent down from above, he’d like to think this was what an angel looked like. Either that or she was one of the Indian spirit guides he’d heard described by his Osage mother.
And yet, a quiet voice inside his head whispered, Here comes trouble, and the cynic he’d become paid close attention.

Chapter Two
“Gideon Fox?” Her voice floated toward him on the slightest hint of a breeze.
How’d she know my name? he asked himself, stunned.
Gideon spoke not a word while the woman moved gracefully toward him. When she came close enough for him to make out her facial features, which were surrounded by that shiny mass of flame-gold hair, the astonishing sight of her stole his breath right out of his lungs. Alert golden eyes, rimmed with a thick fringe of black lashes, focused intently on him. She had a creamy complexion, a pert nose and plump pink lips ripe for kissing.
Hell and damn! He couldn’t recall another time in his life when he’d been so awed by the sight of a woman. He couldn’t seem to look away, just stood there wondering if he had set off a trip wire, died and ended up on the spiritual pathway to the Osage Afterlife and didn’t know it yet.
“Are you real?” Clem chirped, obviously as hypnotized as Gideon by the unexplained appearance of the bewitching creature that had materialized out of nowhere.
She glanced at Clem for a half second then fixed those captivating golden eyes on Gideon and said, “My name is Lorelei Russell and I need your assistance, Marshal Fox.”
The fairy-tale image shattered like broken glass. Gideon had heard that name the previous day in marshal camp. A messenger had arrived to alert the lawmen that a woman had murdered her lover then fled into the rugged Osage Hills. Apparently, she hadn’t realized the network of information passed quickly among the roaming bands of deputy marshals who patrolled Indian Territory.
If she thought to attach herself to him, after cleverly making use of the fog and sunlight to bewitch him, then she thought wrong. No matter how lovely and captivating she was—and she definitely was—she wasn’t getting her hooks into Gideon Fox. His hardscrabble life had taught him to be wary and suspicious. Dealing with ruthless criminals made him excessively cynical and cautious. Gideon wasn’t falling into her trap, either.
To ensure Pecos Clem couldn’t escape, Gideon double-checked the ropes that held the outlaw to the saddle. He’d be damned if he let himself be distracted by sinful temptation at its best—or worst, depending on how you looked at it. He did not intend to lose one prisoner while capturing another.
“What can I do for you, Miz Russell?” Gideon asked as nonchalantly as he knew how.
“I would like for you to escort me to my father’s trading post near Winding River so I can clear up a misunderstanding and track down a murderer who killed my friend.”
So she planned to use him as her protective shield, did she? He wasn’t surprised. Half the people in this world expected him to do favors for them. With the exception of his two younger brothers and his sister-in-law, he amended. Then again, even they could become demanding on occasion.
The other half of the population tried to avoid him before he hauled them to Judge Parker’s federal court.
“I’m in the middle of an arrest, Mizz Russell.” He turned directly to face her—and wished he hadn’t. The woman looked like she should be against the law and her effect on him was staggering. Gideon tried exceptionally hard to pretend indifference but it wasn’t easy.
She shifted her weight from one booted foot to the other, drawing his unwilling attention to the curve of her hips and her long, shapely legs. “Couldn’t you leave your prisoner with other marshals? I know your mobile headquarters and jail wagon must be around here somewhere.”
“I could,” he acknowledged. “But I’m nine miles west of headquarters.”
She nodded pensively, causing a riot of red-gold curlicue strands of hair to bobble around her exquisite face. “I’ll fetch my horse. After we drop off your prisoner we can head west.”
Gideon had no reason to mistrust her intentions—and no reason not to. “I’ll go with you to retrieve your mount,” he insisted as he tethered the gray horse to a tree. “Clem isn’t going anywhere until I get back.”
Letting Lorelei lead the way wasn’t such a good idea, Gideon decided a moment later. The seductive sway of her hips hypnotized him. Worse, he found himself speculating how this wicked, murdering angel looked naked.
He could picture that curly mane of flame-gold hair spilling over the grass as he settled himself exactly above her. He could imagine the feel of those well-proportioned legs hooked around his waist as he buried himself inside her and fell into the depths of those thick-lashed golden eyes. It would be like flying into the blistering heat of the sun….
The erotic thought blazed through his mind and scorched his body, leaving it sizzling with forbidden desire. Ruthlessly, Gideon ignored the tingling sensations and reminded himself that no matter how appealing this sinful angel was, she had murdered her lover.
The only reason he’d reacted so fiercely to her was that he’d been away from women too long. His forays to capture criminals in Indian Territory—that encompassed seventy thousand square miles—usually lasted six weeks. He’d been in the wilderness for five weeks. Any female would look good to him by now, he tried to convince himself.
Unfortunately, this particular woman possessed excessive feminine appeal. The fact that Lorelei had murdered her last lover and wanted Gideon to get her off, scot-free, should have repelled him. But it didn’t, damn it.
“What are you doing out here alone?” Gideon asked as she hiked up the hillside.
“I’m hiding from the two men chasing after me.”
An honest lady outlaw? Interesting. He wondered what her angle was. Everyone had an angle, after all. There was always a catch, always a trap. A man had to stay on his toes to avoid tripping himself up.
“Why are they chasing you?” he asked—as if he didn’t know.
“Because they were ordered to do so by the person who mistakenly thought I committed a crime. Which I didn’t,” she said emphatically as she led the way up a rocky ridge.
“Uh-huh,” he mumbled neutrally.
She approached the sturdy strawberry roan gelding that looked to be too high-spirited for a woman to handle. Apparently, Lorelei Russell could handle men and horses with the same degree of skill—and he better not let himself forget that. Instinct and intuition had warned him at first sight that she was trouble. Sure enough, he’d been right.
The instant she turned her back to reach for the horse’s reins Gideon pounced. He snaked his arm around her waist and slammed her curvaceous body against his, entrapping her. Instant awareness shot through his body when she squirmed against him in a fierce effort to escape. He was doing a fine job of holding on to his alluring captive and controlling a flaming case of lust until she gouged her elbow into his chest with such force that he couldn’t draw breath. Then she kicked him in the knee—and she would have landed a disabling blow to his crotch if he hadn’t reacted instinctively by jackknifing his body and spinning away.
Growling, Gideon recoiled, then lunged at her when she squirmed from his arms and tried to leap onto her horse. He launched himself through the air and tackled her around the knees before she stuffed a booted foot in the stirrup. She yelped when he forced her facedown on the ground and crawled atop her. She spat out a mouthful of gravel and dirt and cursed him soundly as she tried to buck him off.
“So much for the angelic image you tried to project, hellion,” he growled at the back of her curly head, while she wormed and wriggled ineffectively beneath him.
“What is the matter with you!” she yelled at him.
“There’s a warrant out for your arrest and a price on your head. I’m arresting you for murder,” he snapped as he rolled her to her back and pinned her wrists to the ground.
Wide amber eyes swept up as her full breasts heaved from exertion. Gideon noticed the second button on her shirt had come undone during their scuffle. Before his overly active imagination ran away with itself—again—he retrieved the spare set of handcuffs that hung on his double holster.
“How did you know about that already?” Lori panted as he snapped the metal bracelets in place.
“I’m a Deputy U.S. Marshal and I’m half Osage. I know all and see all. I can sure as hell see you for what you are,” he muttered as he hauled her abruptly to her feet.
This could not be happening! Lori thought in dismay. She had come to Gideon Fox for help and he had turned on her without giving away the fact that he knew who she was. He had been waiting to pounce on her, damn him.
“Nice horse,” he complimented as he picked her up and tossed her onto the saddle. “Did you steal it?”
“No, Drifter is mine. A gift from my father, in fact.”
She glowered at the brawny marshal whose stubbled beard and collar-length raven hair gave him the appearance of the dark angel of doom. His vivid blue eyes missed nothing as he looked her up and down while he retrieved a coil of rope from his back pocket to lash her foot to the stirrup. She was poised to gouge Drifter the instant Gideon circled to restrain her other foot.
“Don’t try it, honey,” he ordered. “You’re wanted dead or alive, just like Pecos Clem Murphy. Apparently you know what it’s like to shoot somebody so you know it’s messy business. I don’t want to have to do that to you unless necessary.”
“You’d shoot an innocent woman?”
His long, thick lashes framed his steady gaze. He focused on her while he secured her foot. “I have before. The innocent part was up for debate.” He stared pointedly at her. “It is now, too.” This was not the kind of man Lori had hoped to contact to help her clear up the horrible misunderstanding that left her running for her life—and now captured. She needed sympathy and compassion. She needed a man with an open-minded attitude.
Instead, she had tangled with this hard-edged, stone-hearted lawman of mixed heritage. The part of him that carried Indian blood probably resented all white intruders on tribal property. She doubted he cared one whit that she and her father had a special trader’s license to sell goods and transport travelers across the river.
In addition, Gideon Fox had taken one cynical look at her and judged her guilty of the charges mistakenly leveled against her. But then, who was she to criticize? she asked herself. She’d only known him fifteen minutes and she disliked him already. Not because he had his booted feet in two separate civilizations. Not because he was rough around the edges, abrupt mannered and didn’t look the least bit sophisticated or dignified. But because he had wrongly misjudged her and he cared only about the reward he could collect when he hauled her and Clem to Fort Smith for trial.
When Gideon bounded up behind her in the saddle, she stiffened. He was whipcord muscle and imposing strength and she resented the feeling of helpless frustration riveting her. She forgot to breathe when he tucked his chin on her shoulder and wrapped both swarthy arms around her to hold her manacled hands to the pommel of the saddle.
He must have sensed her discomfort because he said, “Easy, honey. I’m only making double damn sure you don’t gouge me in the chest and emasculate me with a blow to the crotch. What little virtue you have left is safe with me.”
“I am not now, nor will I ever be your honey,” she snapped, unsettled and annoyed by the betraying sensation of pleasure that having him wrapped around her provoked.
“Nothing but a careless endearment, I assure you,” he breathed against the side of her neck, setting off another round of tingles that had no business whatsoever assailing her when she so disliked this heartless lawman.
“Would you prefer that I call you witch or hellion instead of honey?”
“I would prefer that you release me.” She shifted restlessly in the circle of his sinewy arms. “Get your own horse, Marshal. Drifter doesn’t like having you riding him and I’m not fond of it, either.”
“You don’t want me riding you?” he asked with entirely too much teasing amusement in his rich baritone voice.
Lori was grateful that he couldn’t see the beet-red blush that worked its way up her neck to splash across her face. “Certainly not!”
His rumbling chuckle reverberated through his broad chest and vibrated against her back, increasing her awareness of him to the extreme. “But if you and I rode together, you would expect me to favor you with a quick release from your handcuffs so you could dash off again. Just so you know, I don’t like to be propositioned by lady outlaws.”
“That was as far from a proposition as it could get!” she huffed as she nudged him—hard—with her shoulder. “Give me some space, Fox. I don’t like any man crowding me.”
“Is that why you shot your former lover?”
“I didn’t shoot Tony!” she all but yelled at the infuriating man. “He was bushwhacked and I was nearly a victim caught in the cross fire. In fact, I think maybe you gunned him down to collect a reward.”
“Me? Hell and damn, woman. I was nowhere near the west side of Osage reservation. I’ve been tracking Pecos Clem.”
“Well then, if not you specifically, then another glorified executioner for hire whose only concern is the price on a person’s head.”
So there, she thought spitefully as they approached Pecos Clem, who had been secured so effectively he couldn’t have gotten loose if his life depended on it. Now Gideon knew what she thought of bounty hunters wearing the sanctioned labels of Deputy U.S. Marshal. Maybe the marshals who patrolled the territory were the unsung heroes who tried to enforce law and order. But some of them—like Gideon Fox, obviously—were only interested in collecting bounties and relying on decrees of dead or alive to make their job easier.
“If you think I’ll sit here and endure a lecture from a feisty, smart-mouthed murderess then you’re wrong,” he growled in her ear. “You can tell your story to Judge Parker. I’m not the least bit interested in what you have to say. My job is to bring you in. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“But I need to return to the trading post to reassure my father that I’m all right,” she protested hotly. “That is the very least you can do.”
“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.

Chapter Three
Lori 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.
She stared into his pale gray eyes and said, “Because I didn’t love him and he wanted me to elope to anywhere, as long as it was out of the territory. Which made me wonder if he felt the need to run from the law. Tony was likable and he was kind to me but he was very secretive about his past.”
Just when she thought she might be making headway with the other marshals a shout erupted in the distance. Lori glanced over her shoulder to see a man in his midtwenties—with raven hair and a bronzed complexion that resembled Gideon’s—galloping toward them, riding an Appaloosa gelding.
Gideon tugged on her leash as he headed toward the new arrival, forcing her to scurry to catch up with his long, urgent strides.
“What’s wrong, Glenn?” Gideon demanded as he reached out to grab the Appaloosa’s reins.
“Galen was shot in the arm last night when two horse thieves swooped down to steal our horses,” Glenn reported gruffly. “You have to come, Gid. Sarah and I have tried to keep Galen down so he can heal, but he’s determined to find our prize horses….”
His voice trailed off when he glanced past Gideon to appraise Lori with his dark eyes. “Ma’am,” he greeted politely. “A pleasure to meet you.”
Gideon rolled his eyes and said, “Lorelei Russell, this is my youngest brother, Glenn.”
“Hello, Glenn.” She flashed him a smile as she stepped up beside Gideon. “I’d shake your hand but your big brother has mistakenly tied me up.”
“She’s wanted for murder.”
Glenn’s dark eyes popped and his jaw sagged against his chest. “She’s your prisoner?” he chirped incredulously.
“I’m not guilty but your mule-headed brother refuses to listen to reason,” Lori inserted.
Gideon glanced at her in annoyance then looked over his shoulder at the men in the cage. “How many of you are innocent?” he called out to the prisoners.
All the outlaws gave a shout while Gideon stared pointedly at Lori. “You can see why your proclamations fall on deaf ears. Everyone around here is misunderstood, just like you, hellion.”
“Well, she doesn’t look guilty to me,” Glenn said as he gave her the once-over again, paying particular attention to Lori’s alluring curves and swells.
“Looks can be deceiving and don’t you forget it, Glenn.”
Hell and damn, thought Gideon. His twenty-six-year-old brother wasn’t immune to Lori’s charms, either. Just what he needed, a love-starved little brother taking Lori’s side.
“Are you coming?” Glenn asked anxiously. “Sarah is upset.”
“Who’s Sarah?” Lori inquired.
“Galen’s wife. She’s afraid he’ll take off while I’m fetching Gideon and she can’t chase after him because she’s five months pregnant.”
Gideon pivoted toward his horse. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he called to the other marshals.
“What about the woman?” Phen Wilson questioned as he glanced from the cage of men to Gideon.
Gideon blew out a frustrated breath. As much as he wanted to get this sassy spitfire out from underfoot—because he’d proved he couldn’t trust himself with the forbidden temptation she presented—he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her in camp, either. It wasn’t that he didn’t expect the other marshals to treat her humanely. It was just that she was…
He scowled at himself. It was just that she fascinated him and he didn’t want to leave her here indefinitely to captivate one of the other lawmen to the point that he stole a few kisses and caresses from her. Plus, he didn’t want her to work her wiles on the other lawmen who might accompany her cross-country. There was no telling what might happen while she and one of his fellow marshals were alone.
“I must be out of my mind,” he growled to himself as he scooped up Lori and plunked her down on Drifter’s saddle.
All three marshals waggled their eyebrows and grinned speculatively. Gideon hated what they were thinking. But he couldn’t leave her behind. He felt so conflicted he wanted to swear two blue streaks. Nevertheless, he clamped down on his tongue, ignored the taunting stares and mounted Pirate.
While Glenn took the lead, and Gideon held the reins to Lori’s strawberry roan gelding, the procession headed north. Twenty minutes later, Glenn dug into his saddlebag and leaned over to offer Lori a slice of home-cooked bread and a stick of beef jerky. She smiled gratefully as she accepted the food with her bound hands.
“Thank you, Glenn. Truth is that I’m famished. I’ve been living in a cave for several days with little nourishment.”
Gideon shifted uncomfortably in the saddle when Glenn stared disapprovingly at him. However, in his defense, Gideon had been busy interrogating Pecos Clem’s cohorts and tracking down the dangerous fugitive. Then he’d spent the day trying to ignore a woman who posed so much temptation that he’d broken his rule about becoming involved with any prisoner—especially a woman prisoner—and stopped just short of burying himself in her lush body in a weak, mindless, lusty moment.
Sweet mercy! What had he been thinking?
“Surely you don’t think she’s guilty of anything except being too beautiful for her own good,” Glenn murmured for his ears only.
“I have a good deal more experience with fugitives and their melodramatics than you do,” Gideon said confidentially. “You start believing every sad tale someone tells and you could wind up shot, stabbed or knocked unconscious, while your fugitive makes a fast getaway and leaves you for dead.”
Glenn glanced over at Lori and smiled longingly. Gideon had to admit that she looked exceptionally fetching with her flame-gold hair dancing in the breeze and the sun spotlighting her beguiling figure. He knew from personal experience that staring into her alluring features and getting lost in those entrancing golden eyes could make a man believe what she wanted him to believe.
Clearly, Glenn had made a snap judgment. Thanks to encouragement from his lusty male body, he’d decided Lorelei Russell was a victim of circumstances beyond her control. Certainly not a murderess with a hefty reward on her head.
A lot the kid knew, Gideon mused sourly.
“What can you tell me about the horse thieves?” Gideon asked, hoping to distract his moon-eyed brother.
“Not much to tell,” Glenn replied then bit into Sarah’s mouthwatering bread. “It happened last night. We heard the horses stamping around in the corral and we dashed outside to check on them. The thieves wore bandannas over their faces and they started shooting. Unfortunately, Galen was in the direct line of fire.”
“What kind of horses were they riding?” Gideon asked. “Did you notice any brands?”
Glenn shook his head, munched on his food and frowned thoughtfully. “Just brown horses, I guess. It was dark and foggy, but I didn’t see any brands…. More bread, ma’am?”
Gideon sighed in exasperation while Glenn smiled and extended more food to Lori. She graced Glenn—the smitten fool—with a dazzling smile that practically outshone the sun.
“Thank you, Glenn. It’s very generous of you to share your food with me. I appreciate it.”
My, she was pouring on the charm, wasn’t she? If Gideon had to listen to much more of this sticky sweetness he’d have a toothache. And Glenn had an idiotically happy expression on his face that made him look about twelve.
“No trouble, ma’am. Shame on Gid for not offering you food until now.”
“Please call me Lori,” she insisted, casting him another dimpled smile.
Glenn bowed from the saddle, looking as charming and rakish as Gideon had ever seen him. “Lori it is. Where do you hail from?”
Gideon thought he was going to be sick. Nonetheless, he remained silent while Lori filled Glenn in on her life story. The cynic in Gideon wondered how much truth there was to it. He tried to pretend he wasn’t listening and didn’t give a damn, but he was curious about her.
“My father was a lieutenant colonel in the army and we moved from one post to another for years. I was eleven when I lost my mother and younger brother to a diphtheria epidemic. Papa said he couldn’t be around military posts without the memories of Mama breaking his heart. He acquired a special trader’s license and we opened a trading post in the Osage Nation. When the number of travelers increased and the stage company wanted to provide service in the Pawnee Nation to the south we staked the river to provide ferry service.”
She smiled at Glenn again and ignored Gideon as if he were invisible. “What about you and your family, Glenn?”
“Our father was a French trapper,” he replied. “Our mother was full-blood Osage. I was twelve when someone killed our father and stole his furs while he was on his way to Rendezvous.”
“I’m sorry,” Lori commiserated. “It’s difficult to lose a loved one.”
“Yes, it is,” Glenn murmured. “Out of loneliness and desperation, my mother remarried two years later.”
“Unfortunately, the abusive bastard played the role of the attentive suitor convincingly…until he got what he wanted. A place to stay and rapport with our people so he could cheat us all,” Gideon added bitterly.
“I’m sorry about that, too,” Lori murmured.
“He was the one who was sorry,” Glenn remarked. “He shoved our mother during one of his mean drunks. When she hit her head and collapsed, he left her to die. Gideon went after him. He’d been working with the Osage Police to support our family and he tracked down our stepfather. The fool tried to shoot Gideon out of the saddle.”
Lori glanced curiously at Gideon. “Were you injured?”
He nodded. “I took a gunshot in the thigh.”
“But he put our stepfather down and the bastard didn’t get up again,” Glenn said grimly. “Gideon became brother, mother and father to Galen and me after that.”
Lori wondered if Gideon’s abusive stepfather was the first fatality of his job as a law enforcement officer. But she didn’t ask. Both men lapsed into silence for several minutes after telling the grim tale.
When she glanced at Glenn, he was staring at her with masculine appreciation. Even if his cynical older brother didn’t trust her, Glenn seemed willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Too bad he wasn’t a marshal who’d listen to her story and agree to open an investigation.
“What do you do these days, Glenn?” she inquired as she resettled herself more comfortably in the saddle.
“I help Galen with the horses and other livestock. I do most of the field work while he’s on police duty on the reservation.” He glanced quickly at Gideon then looked away. “I want to serve with the Osage Police like Galen, and like Gideon did before Judge Parker recruited him to be a Deputy U.S. Marshal.”
“So why haven’t you?” she questioned.
He hitched his thumb toward Gideon. “Because my big brother says having two brothers being shot at on a daily basis is enough. But it turns out I’m as good a shot as Gid, not that it matters to him.”
Gideon barked a laugh. “Not even on your good day, kid. When you can hit a target, backward and blindfolded, we’ll talk.”
Glenn’s broad chest puffed up like an offended toad’s. “I’m twenty-six years old, damn it… Excuse my language, Lori. I can do whatever I want, if I want. You aren’t my boss anymore.”
While Glenn and Gideon exchanged teasing taunts, Lori smiled to herself. She missed having a brother. For years, it had been only Lori and her father, working together to establish the trading post to feed, supply and transport travelers.
After hearing about Gideon’s dealings with his scheming, abusive stepfather, she understood why he was wary of believing strangers’ stories. She knew he felt the burden of responsibility to care for and protect his family. She wondered how it would feel to have him protect her rather than distrust her motives and spew his cynicism at her.
Come to think of it, why had he brought her along when he could’ve foisted her off on his fellow marshals and be done with her? That’s what she’d expected, but he’d surprised her.
She couldn’t help but ask him about it.
He shifted awkwardly on the striking Pinto-and-Appaloosa stallion. For a moment, she didn’t think he planned to answer. He didn’t bother to do her the courtesy of glancing in her direction when he finally spoke.
“You’re my prisoner and I’m collecting my bounty money.”
The comment cut her to the core. She told herself she suspected as much. It wasn’t because he didn’t trust the other marshals to keep her captive. It wasn’t because he thought she might come to harm while caged with known outlaws who might maul her or molest her during the trek to Fort Smith.
No, it was about the money he’d collect when he delivered her to trial.
“At least you’re honest,” she mumbled.
“One of us should be.”
Lori gnashed her teeth. “I’m really beginning to dislike you intensely, Marshal Fox.”
“It’s not my duty to win friends, Miz Russell.”
“Good thing. You’d fail miserably. You have the charm and disposition of a rattlesnake.”
Glenn chuckled at the unflattering exchange. “Too bad Galen isn’t here to enjoy this. Very few people dare to talk back to my big brother.”
She figured the only reason Gideon allowed her to get away with it was because he didn’t want to shoot her or strangle her while his youngest brother was an eyewitness.

Chapter Four
“Ah, home at last,” Gideon declared three hours later.
Lori stared into the lush valley, admiring the rock-and-timber home butted up against the north hillside to block off cold winter winds. The ranch boasted one of the most panoramic settings she’d seen for miles. A spring-fed creek meandered through the meadow to flow into the nearby river. It passed close to the two-story home and oversize barn similar to the one at Burgess Ranch and Stage Station.
There were a half-dozen large sheds equipped with stalls for cattle and horses. Dozens of horses grazed in the pasture. But apparently, someone had stolen the prized breeding stock. Considering the fine quality of broodmares and colts on the ranch, the top breeding stock must be something extraordinary.
So this was where Gideon and his brothers had grown up, she mused as she cast him a discreet glance. She predicted the men had built the spacious home and outbuildings with their own hands. Lori wondered how Sarah Fox dealt with the three brothers who came and went from the ranch. She sincerely hoped Gideon treated his sister-in-law with more trust and respect than he did Lori. Otherwise, the woman should seriously consider whacking Gideon’s hard head and knocking some manners into him.
As the threesome rode downhill a petite woman with shiny black hair, expressive brown eyes and olive complexion—that hinted at her Osage and white ancestry—stepped onto the covered porch. She wore a calico gown that modestly concealed her rounded belly.
The instant Gideon dismounted Sarah flew into his arms. “Thank goodness, Glenn found you!” she gushed as she hugged the stuffing out of Gideon. “I can’t keep that mule-headed brother of yours down without resorting to every Indian remedy of a sedative. He wakes up and swears he’s going to hunt down those thieves. You have to do something with that crazed brother of yours, Gid!”
No doubt, the whole family expected the eldest brother to resolve all problems they encountered. Being unflappable, self-reliant and more than capable, Gideon quietly reassured Sarah that he would take care of Galen. Then he strode toward the porch. He stopped abruptly then lurched around to glance at Lori. As if he wasn’t sure what to do with her.
She shouldn’t feel offended because she was his afterthought. You are a fool to expect anything from that hard-nosed marshal, she reminded herself sensibly. She was one of his many duties and she was nothing more than a dollar sign in his eyes. What did she care what he thought of her? She didn’t, she told herself fiercely. As far as she was concerned, Gideon Fox was a pain in the ass, the gigantic obstacle standing between her and freedom and exoneration.
He was also her first shocking experience with irrational lust. She still couldn’t fathom why Gideon intrigued her. She knew he wouldn’t blink an eye at shooting her down if she attempted escape. At most, she was nothing but a convenient warm body to him. Someone to wrestle around in the grass and kiss because there wasn’t another available female for miles—with the exception of his pretty sister-in-law. Well, she had a grand suggestion as to what he should do with her, she thought huffily. He could release her and she would promise never, ever to bother him again.
“Glenn, do something with Lori,” he requested as Sarah grasped his hand and tugged him up the steps.
“Come on, Lori,” Glenn said, jostling her from her contemplations.
To her surprise, Glenn untied her feet from the stirrups and discarded the infuriating leash attached to her manacled wrists. With courteous care—something Gideon Hard-Hearted-Fox knew absolutely nothing about—Glenn scooped her from Drifter’s saddle and set her on the ground. She noticed Glenn took his sweet time setting her on her feet and releasing her. His body brushed against her, but to Lori’s frustration, she didn’t feel the same tingles of awareness that Gideon set off.
She wished she had. Glenn was arrestingly handsome, with a muscular build, thick raven hair and twinkling black eyes. Plus, he was only a few years older than her and he didn’t treat her with such wary distrust.
“I’m sorry I can’t do anything about the cuffs,” he murmured without backing away. “I would if I could. But I’d have to answer to my big brother.”
“It’s all right, Glenn. I appreciate your consideration.”
To her surprise, he slid his arm around her waist and shepherded her up the steps into the house. When they stepped into the spacious parlor and dining area, she heard gruff voices wafting down the hallway.
“Sit down, you idiot!” Gideon boomed like thunder.
“Get the hell out of my way!” came another deep, agitated voice that she presumed belonged to Galen Fox.
Glenn shuttled her down the hall and they paused in the doorway. Lori assessed the dark-haired, bare-chested patient who had a bloodstained bandage wrapped around his upper right arm. Galen, who looked to be a couple of years younger than Gideon, thrashed wildly on the bed while Gideon tried to shove his head against the pillow. Galen attempted to backhand Gideon while Sarah scolded her partially sedated husband for tearing the stitches and defying his older brother’s orders.
“See what I mean, Gid?” Sarah fussed. “None of the remedies to sedate him are as effective as they should be.”
“That’s because you can’t sedate stubborn,” said Gideon.
When Sarah realized Lori lurked in the doorway, her dark-eyed gaze dropped to the metal cuffs. She frowned, bemused, as she glanced between Lori and Gideon.
“I’m sorry you have to observe this family squabble.” She reached out to thump Galen on his good shoulder. “Behave yourself, Galen. We have a visitor.”
Gideon whirled around to stare disapprovingly at Glenn. “I told you to do something with her,” he said gruffly.
Galen stopped struggling then glanced around Gideon’s broad shoulders. His dull green eyes widened as he looked Lori over thoroughly then peered questioningly at Gideon. Lori could tell Galen was under the influence of some sort of home remedy because his eyelids drooped noticeably and his movements were sluggish—too sluggish to effectively battle his brawny brother.
“Since when do you go around cuffing beautiful women?” Galen slurred out, and then smiled devilishly. “Is that the only way you can convince one to spend the night with you?”
“Galen! Hush up,” Sarah admonished.
“She’s a fugitive,” Gideon grumbled. “She killed her boyfriend and if you don’t lie still I’ll hand her my pistol and turn her loose on you. Now stop fighting me, damn it!”
When Sarah’s wide-eyed gaze swung to her, Lori thrust out her chin and squared her shoulders. “I did not shoot anyone. It’s a misunderstanding that I came to Gideon to clear up, but he won’t listen to reason,” she protested. “And it is nice to make your acquaintance, Galen, Sarah. My name is Lorelei Russell. If you’ll kindly hand me your weapon I’ll turn it on Gideon. That should put him out of your misery. And mine.”
Galen managed a goofy-looking grin as his gaze slid back and forth between Lori and Gideon. “I like her. She has sass and gumption.”
“You like anyone who defies me like you do,” Gideon muttered. “Now lie the hell down and shut the hell up! You won’t do anyone around here any good if infection sets in or you bleed to death because you refused to take time off to recover from injury.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said with a gusty sigh. “Now listen to our brother, Galen. He only wants what is best for you.”
“No, he doesn’t. He just likes to boss me around because he was the firstborn. Doesn’t make him smarter, just older.”
“Mind your manners in front of our guest,” Sarah reprimanded as she eased down beside her husband.
“Prisoner,” Gideon corrected, tossing Lori a sideways glance that sought to intimidate. He wasted his time.
“Seriously, Galen, toss me a gun and I’ll shoot the tyrant for you,” Lori persisted, tongue in cheek. “He’ll never boss you around again.”
Another lopsided grin touched Galen’s lips as he relaxed on the bed for the first time. Sarah bit back a smile as her gaze leapfrogged back and forth between Lori and Gideon, who scowled darkly.
“I hope you can back up that snippy mouth, hellion,” Gideon grumbled at Lori.
“With guns or knives,” she sassed him. “Take your pick.”
Gnashing his teeth, Gideon stalked over to grab hold of her elbow then nudged Glenn out of his way. “You stay away from Lori.” He glared at Glenn then pinned Galen with a hard stare. “And you stay in bed.” He focused icy blue eyes on Lori. “You are coming with me, hellion.”
“I’d love to, since you asked so nicely,” she retorted, wondering why she couldn’t guard her tongue when it came to dealing with Gideon.
Swear to God, he did bring out the worst in her.
The instant they were out of sight and walking down the hall Gideon leaned close and said, “If you don’t stop undermining my authority with my family I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” she shot back when he paused to take a breath. “Give me fifty lashes? Hang me high? Shoot me down? I am not a criminal, even if you prefer to think I am. If you can’t treat me with the slightest courtesy in front of your family then do not speak to me at all.”
“Just shut up for once,” he growled as he loomed over her like a thundercloud.
“No, you’re insulting and mistrusting. You make me furious and I—”
His mouth came down hard on hers, effectively shutting her up. Lori cursed herself a dozen times over for responding to him rather than gouging him in the groin and making a run for it. Honestly! How could she react so fiercely to his kisses when most of the time she wanted to strangle him? It just wasn’t fair. No man had ever held this kind of power over her and Gideon Fox was the last man on earth she wanted to have it. It was infuriating, humiliating, baffling.
“Hell and damn, woman, see what you made me do?” Gideon whispered against her lips. “I don’t want to like you.” He kissed her again, negating his gruff comment.
“I don’t want to like you, either,” she said when he allowed her to come up for air. “In fact, I don’t like you. You possess all the annoying qualities that don’t appeal to me. You make me say things I wouldn’t say to anyone else. You make me just plain crazy.”
“I prefer sweet-tempered, docile women who don’t defy me at every turn,” he said, then kissed her again—and she let him.
“That’s why you have to pay by the hour for devoted attention,” she couldn’t resist saying.
He lifted his raven head a fraction then stared down at her from beneath half-mast lashes. His ruggedly handsome face was a hairbreadth from hers. Surprisingly, a smile twitched his sensuous lips.
“How much will it cost for you to be nice to me for a full hour?”
“You couldn’t afford it, Marshal Fox.”
“Ah, so you’re a high-class courtesan,” he taunted. “Is that what you and Anthony Rogers were arguing about? Your exorbitant fee? Now the truth comes out.”
She went for his throat. He’d gone too far with his tormenting ridicule. He’d brought Tony’s name into it when she was feeling guilty and grieving his loss.
He grabbed her bound wrists, forcing them down in front of her, as if she was no more than a weak child. Curse him! He was as strong and powerful as he looked and she hated being dominated, especially when she was angry and frustrated with herself for being so attracted to this infuriating man.
“One day I hope you find yourself protesting your innocence and no one will listen to you. Then you’ll know how exasperating it is to face mockery and scorn when you know in your heart and soul that you have done nothing to deserve unfair accusations and demeaning treatment.”
Growling, Gideon quick-marched her out the front door, down the steps and bustled her toward the barn. He tethered her to a pole and left her beside two milk cows, a pen of sheep and two strapping paint horses.
“And stay there,” he snapped before he spun on his heels. “Prisoners are not allowed special privileges in my book.”
“You can go to hell, Gideon Fox,” she called after him.
“Been there. It’s everything it’s cracked up to be.” He shot her a narrowed glance over his shoulder and added, “By the way, the devil sends you his regards, hellion.”
When he disappeared from sight, leaving her tied up like an animal, days of tormenting emotion bubbled up inside her then erupted like molten lava. Lori cried her eyes out. She cried for Tony, for the injustice her life had become, for the worry her father must be experiencing. And most of all she bawled her head off because of Gideon Fox. That cynical, blue-eyed, cantankerous rascal of a deputy marshal made her feel sensations she wanted to share with anyone else in the world but him!

On his way back to the house, Gideon stopped to draw water from the well then washed his face so he could cool off—physically and emotionally. It was a crime what that high-spirited female did to him. She disrupted his logical thought processes. When he came within five feet of her, desire and wariness warred inside him.
The damnable truth was that he wanted that golden-eyed virago more than he’d wanted any other woman in his life. Yet, he didn’t want to want her because she represented the kind of individual he was sworn to apprehend.
In addition, he refused to make the kind of disastrous mistake his mother made when she fell for her second husband’s manipulative lies.
If Lori knew how many twisted, treacherous lies and proclamations he’d heard from outlaws—men and women alike—she would have tried a different tack with him. Gideon had heard and seen the worst humanity could do to each other and he’d lost faith. Time and time again, people had looked him right in the eye and lied through their teeth to protect themselves.
Scrubbing his hands over his face, Gideon forcefully set aside his frustrating inability to deal professionally with Lori. Instead, he focused on his family. He’d been the head of the household for so long that he considered it his duty to make certain everything ran smoothly. He’d rather take a bullet himself than to see Galen suffer. Especially since it upset his pregnant wife to such extremes. Sarah was so deeply and completely in love with Galen that it still amazed Gideon to watch her interact with his middle brother.
Gideon had lived with that ornery Galen and impulsive Glenn for years. He didn’t consider them exceptionally lovable. Perhaps the fact that ruthless raiders had killed Sarah’s family five years earlier made her cling so fiercely to her new husband and family. After Gideon tracked down every last one of the three men and then watched Judge Parker send them to the gallows, Sarah had sworn eternal gratitude.
“He’s at it again,” Sarah said as she breezed onto the porch. “Galen insisted he can mount a horse to begin a search for our horses. I swear you’ll have to tie him to the bedposts. Glenn is trying to do just that, but he needs help.”
Shaking himself like a duck to shed water, Gideon strode into the house. He could hear Galen swearing a blue steak, long before he witnessed the struggle between Galen and Glenn.
Gideon walked over to press his palm to Galen’s forehead, noting his high fever and forcing his brother down while Glenn secured his good arm to the iron headboard. “Stop resisting. You’re a sick man and you’re worse than a belligerent prisoner.” Like the one he’d tethered in his barn. “You’re hurt and you need rest,” he added tersely. “Do us all a favor and calm down.”
“You have your own problems,” Galen panted, completely out of breath. “Can’t expect you to take time off to hunt down our horses. They’ll be miles away if I don’t track them.”
“I will track them down. Count on it,” Gideon guaranteed. “The other marshals can handle the jail wagon and still round up fugitives before we head to Fort Smith.”
“What about the woman?” Galen’s green-eyed gaze zeroed in on him. “What are you going to do about her?”
“I think you should let her go.” Glenn spoke up. “She looks innocent to me.”
Galen and Gideon exchanged glances before staring at their younger brother. Gideon said, “So is a delicate rose…until you grab hold of it and suffer the painful prick of its thorn. Looks are deceiving, little brother. It’s time you learned that.”
Glenn gestured toward Sarah. “Lori is pretty like Sarah.”
“Thank you,” Sarah murmured.
“I think Lori also has a kind heart and generous nature,” Glenn continued. “You should give her the benefit of the doubt.”
“I did more than that,” Gideon replied. “I tested her and she attacked me.”
“Tested her?” Glenn smiled wryly. “How?”
“I provoked her temper.”
“I can see why she might’ve attacked you.” Glenn crossed his arms over his chest and studied Gideon all too closely. “I never knew you were so rude to women.”
The comment caused Galen and Sarah to arch their eyebrows and study Gideon speculatively.
“Sparring with each other, were they?” Galen asked.
“Stay out of this. You’re injured,” Gideon snapped.
“Nothing wrong with my mind, except when my lovely wife overdoses me with that foul-tasting sedative.”
“Everything’s wrong with your mind,” Gideon said, and smirked. “When you’re sedated you think you can fly and your judgment is skewered.”
“He’s not that bad,” Sarah put in defensively. “And I must say I’m surprised by your attitude toward Lori. In fact, I’m on my way out to offer her food and make amends.”
“Just be careful that she doesn’t bite the hand that feeds her,” Gideon warned.
Sarah scoffed as she exited the room, provoking Gideon to mutter under his breath. He wasn’t accustomed to his family ganging up against him. All because of that feisty female prisoner who went around shooting former lovers for proposing to her. If that wasn’t the dumbest excuse he’d ever heard, he didn’t know what was.
Furthermore, his family should trust his instincts.
Gideon lashed Galen’s leg to the bedpost—just in case he became rowdy again.
Galen cursed him sourly. “That isn’t necessary, you—”
“—tyrant,” Glenn teased, borrowing Lori’s description.
Gideon’s arm shot toward the door, as if his annoying little brother was too dense to know where it was. “Leave. Go with Sarah to make sure Lori doesn’t try to escape while taking her meal.”
“Where is she?” Glenn inquired.
“Tied to a post beside the sheep pen in the barn.”
“Tied to a post?” Glenn howled in outrage.
“She’s a prisoner, not a princess,” Gideon reminded him caustically. “I’m not going to book her a room at the hotel in the Osage Capitol at Pawhuska for safekeeping.”
Flashing Gideon a disapproving glance, Glenn hastened from the room.
Galen smiled wryly. “We both seem to be upsetting the family today.”
Gideon plunked down in the chair next to the bed. “I’m cranky from lack of sleep. I’ve been tracking fugitives for five weeks. You’re irritable because you’ve been shot, sedated and restrained. We’re destined to upset a few people along the way… Now tell me about the horse theft.”
Galen yawned broadly then shrugged his good shoulder. “Not much to tell. I heard the broodmares and Appaloosa stud stamping around and banging against the corral railing. They were nickering uneasily so I went to investigate and called to Glenn on my way out the door.”
“What time was this?”
“Before eleven. I was late in returning from police headquarters in Pawhuska. I’d had to investigate a domestic quarrel between John Running Bear and his wife, Leta.”
Gideon nodded. “Those two were going at each other while I was an officer with the Osage Police. As I recall, Leta constantly accused John of cheating on her.”
Galen nodded. “Not much has changed. They still go on the warpath and take after one another. Their neighbors heard them raising a ruckus from a quarter of a mile down the road.”
“So you came home late,” Gideon prompted to get his brother back on track.
Galen blinked owlishly then shook his dark head to clear his thoughts. “Sarah fixed me something to eat. Glenn had already gone upstairs to his room. When I heard the horses nickering, I hurried outside. Like I said, I called to Glenn and grabbed my pistol on the way out the door. I figured a panther or bear was lurking around, disturbing the horses.

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Carol Finch

Тип: электронная книга

Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература

Язык: на английском языке

Издательство: HarperCollins

Дата публикации: 16.04.2024

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О книге: Indulge your fantasies of delicious Regency Rakes, fierce Viking warriors and rugged Highlanders. Be swept away into a world of intense passion, lavish settings and romance that burns brightly through the centuriesCarol is an Oklahoma resident, with Native American heritage. She attended Odessa College in Texas on a tennis scholarship, then graduated from Oklahoma State University with a B. Sc. degree. She has earned hours toward a masters at Southwestern University, Oklahoma. Before making a full-time career of writing, Carol taught high school biology.Carol began writing while her children were preschool age. She gave up her teaching career to be a stay-at-home-mom on their isolated family ranch. After reducing life to the simplest explanations to answer her young children′s questions, she decided to try her hand at writing to see if she could still communicate intelligibly with adults. After two years of keeping vampire hours to write after the children were tucked in bed, her first book was published.She progressed to writing during the day when her children were in school. During her 20-year career, Carol has penned 73 books under five pseudonyms in several genres. In her spare time and there hasn′t been much of it because she never missed her children′s school activities or baseball and basketball games.Carol likes to garden, do carpentry projects, and help her husband, Ed, with farming chores on their 400-acre ranch. Over the years they have raised cattle, wheat, sheep, pigs, chickens, rabbits, turkeys, and peacocks, plus dozens of cats, dogs, and horses. The place is a zoo and that′s the way Carol likes it.Carol, formerly a nationally ranked tennis player in high school and college, traded her racket for golf clubs. She′s still the outdoorsy type at heart, although writing has become one of her greatest passions right behind her husband, children, and young grandchildren.

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