Stacey Kayne - Mountain Wild

Praise for Stacey Kayne:

MUSTANG WILD

‘Fast-paced and well written,

MUSTANG WILD was a delight to devour…

Highly romantic, with just the right touch of humour,

MUSTANG WILD is one for the keeper shelf.

Stacey Kayne has penned a treasure…’

— Cataromance

‘This strong debut is a tale of one woman’s struggle to

overcome a father’s deceit before she can find peace,

forgiveness and passion with the man meant for her.

Each character carries his or her own weight, adding

depth and humour to this honestly written story.’

— RT Book Reviews

MAVERICK WILD

‘Excitement, mystery and delight fill the pages of

MAVERICK WILD, Stacey Kayne’s latest historical

treasure. Kayne can weave a story that will capture

you and not let go. She has demonstrated herself to be

a talented force in the world of western romance.’

— Cataromance

‘Kayne carries off a warm-hearted Americana

western with…feisty characters, a loving family

atmosphere, small-town troubles and the

gritty reality of life in the Wild West.’

— RT Book Reviews

“Don’t go,” he whispered against her ear, the vibrations rekindling the wild tingles in all the places he’d touched. He leaned in, touching his lips to hers in the lightest caress. His arm tightened over her ribs.

Damnation!

She shoved his arm away and scrambled for the end of the bed. She stumbled over the trunk and fell to the cold floor. She sprang up, tugging her wool nightshirt closed as she bumped against her table, wobbling the lit oil lamp. Light shifted over shadows and the naked man sprawled in her bed.

She inched toward the stove, grabbed up her now dry clothes, then backed toward the door. How long had she slept?

The heated swirls he’d conjured rose up, stealing her breath.

He’d kissed her, in ways she’d never imagined a man would kiss a woman. Her teeth clamped down on her trembling lower lip. The memory of his mouth on her breast, his tongue moving against hers, added to the violent stir of her pulse. His touch had been tender, his kisses…overwhelming.

Stacey Kaynehas always been a daydreamer. If the comments on her elementary school report cards are any indication, it’s a craft she mastered early on. Having a passion for history and a flair for storytelling, she strives to weave fact and fiction into a wild ride that can capture the heart. Stacey lives on a ranch near the Sierra Nevada with her high school sweetheart turned husband of eighteen years and their two sons. Visit her website at www.staceykayne.com.

Recent novels by the same author:

MUSTANG WILD

MAVERICK WILD

MILLS & BOON®

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dedicated to my critique partners,

Sheila Raye, who’s always there for emergency brainstorming,

Marlene Urso, for her speed-of-light proofreading,

and Carla Capshaw, whose insight is always an inspiration!

Special Thanks to:

My husband—Happy 20th Anniversary!

Tanner and Ethan for always being there

to help their mom out.

My mom and mom-in-law

for their never-ending support.

My pals at Writers at Play.

Lucy, my fabulous editor,

for her faith and understanding.

My readers—I hope you enjoy this final addition

to my WILD series!

Southwest Wyoming Territory—1875

“There’s nowhere to run, Margaret Grace. I’m going to find you.”

He was too close. Desperate to escape her brother’s rage, Maggie’s fingers dug into the dirt as she struggled through the thick brush. Thorns scraped across her cheeks, snagging her braids, ripping at her dress.

“Thirteen is a bit too old for hide-and-seek,” Nathan called out, his taunting voice sounding merely a foot away.

Maggie froze. She tried to control her jagged breaths and the tears burning for release. Her face and belly throbbed from his heavy fists crashing down on her. Their daddy hadn’t been dead a full hour, and her brother had lost his mind. He’d exploded from the house in a rage, their father’s will in his hand.

He’d gone after her like a man deranged.

A twig snapped behind her. Maggie held her breath as his shadow moved over the dense scrub, blocking out bits of sunlight breaking through the twisted branches as he walked past. The crunch of his footsteps faded deeper into the woods. Her heart thundered as she waited. She had to make it back to the ranch before him.

She scrambled from the bush, biting back a scream as thorns ripped at her skin. Shaking, she hurried back down the hillside. Through a maze of tall timber she could see her home below and those who’d gathered in the yard—stable hands, housekeepers, the nanny who’d raised her.

Why didn’t they come for her? She had screamed for help. All of them had looked on with horrified expressions, shrinking away as Nathan struck her again and again, forcing her to run for the woods to get away from him.

“There you are.”

Maggie swung around. Fear gripped her chest, stealing her breath as her older brother towered over her. A wedge of black hair covered one eye. The other sparked with anger. Their father’s will was still crushed in his grasp, her blood marring the pages.

Until today, no one had ever struck her. At twenty-two, Nathan was now her legal guardian.

“Look at you, Margaret Grace.” He shook his head as though he weren’t the one responsible for her tattered state. “What would your daddy think of his precious little girl crawling through the dirt in her fancy pink clothes?”

A smile curved his lips, and tears blurred Maggie’s vision. He’d never liked her, but she never guessed her brother harbored such hatred. “What have I ever done to you?” she cried.

“You were born. My life was perfect before you came along. You killed my mother and have been nothing but a drain on my inheritance. And now I’m supposed to waste what’s left of my money on some finishing school and a dowry so you can be pawned off on some aristocratic fool?”

“I don’t have to go. I won’t go!”

“It’s in the will!” he shouted, waving the crumpled pages. “His lawyer has a copy. I’m his only son, the rightful heir! All this talks about is preparations made for you, Margaret Grace! ” He swung his fist.

Pain exploded through her cheek. A scream ripped from her lungs as she hit the ground. She curled up, defending herself as best she could.

When the next blow didn’t come, she opened her eyes and saw a pair of Indian boots just inches from her nose. Her gaze traveled up a giant wearing a thick fur coat. A full beard covered most of his face, but didn’t hide three long scars twisting through his cheek.

Maggie gasped and scrambled back until she bumped into something. Fingers twisting into her hair, popping strands at the root, reminding her she faced a greater threat—her own brother.