Carol Finch - Bounty Hunter's Bride

When he heard a vicious growl and a wail of pain, he elbowed through the crowd of onlookers and dashed through the trash-strewn alley. His legs suddenly refused to move when his gaze landed on Sarah, whose flawless face now boasted a red welt and whose delicate gown had been ripped from neck to waist.

Cale was still standing there, immobilized, when Sarah spotted him. She dashed toward him like a homing pigeon going to roost. She cuddled against his chest, and his arms reflexively closed around her. He felt her quaking fear vibrating through every fiber of his being.

“Call off Skeet,” she croaked.

“Not in this life,” Cale growled as he watched Skeet pin his victim to the dirt, his powerful jaws resting threateningly against the man’s jugular. Any heathen who laid his filthy hands on Sarah deserved to be chewed to bitesize pieces.

“Skeet, stop!” Hanna demanded as she huddled against Cale.

Amazingly, the dog unclamped his jaws and stood over the man, with his sharp teeth mere inches from his throat. Bemused, Cale arched a brow. It was the first time Skeet had obeyed a command from anyone but him. Must’ve had something to do with the fact that Sarah had tucked the uneaten portion of her supper steak in her purse and left it for Skeet the previous night, Cale decided.

“Somebody get the town marshal,” he ordered. “Now!”

Bodies scattered while Skeet stood guard, refusing to let the miscreant gain his feet and run for his life.

“Damn it, woman, didn’t I tell you to pay attention?” Cale snapped angrily.

Sarah nodded her tousled head, but refused to look up at him. He didn’t blame her. He was feeling positively murderous and probably looked it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Obviously not,” he interrupted sharply. This was a good time to teach her a valuable lesson that she damn well better not forget. “You don’t trust anyone if you want to survive. You presume nothing. You remain on constant alert. Have I made myself clear?”

She jerked back slightly and glared up at him. When he saw the red welt on her cheek at close range and noticed the extent of the damage to the gown she clutched modestly to her chest, the damnedest thing happened. The vicious fury drained right out of him. Just like that. Poof! Suddenly it didn’t matter that this naive innocent hadn’t applied every precautionary measure that had become second nature to him. All that mattered was that she was alive and in one piece—more or less.

“Well, hell,” Cale muttered as he noticed the unshed tears glistening in those mystifying violet eyes. He slid his arm beneath her knees and scooped her into his arms.

“Put me down! I—”

“Clam up, Magnolia,” he interrupted as he carried her through the crowd of onlookers. “Skeet, stay.”

Without another word Cale strode toward the hotel, and he didn’t break stride until he reached his room. Propriety be damned, he decided. He was going to deposit Sarah in his bedroom, and nobody better mess with her again or he’d go on a shooting spree the likes of which this town had never seen!

It dawned on Cale that he’d gone a little crazy, was feeling off balance and out of control. But he didn’t care. Any man who would abuse a woman deserved to be poisoned, shot, stabbed and hanged in short order. It had been a sensitive issue with him since his—Well, for a long time. ’nuff said.

Cale laid Sarah gently on his bed, then forced himself to look away when his gaze dropped to the exposed swell of her breasts. She clutched at the tattered bodice and her face turned the same color as the welt on her cheek. Cale wheeled around to grab a towel, then dipped it in water.

“Here, Magnolia,” he said as he sank down on the edge of the bed. “Hold this to your cheek. I’ll fetch you another dress.”

“Th—thank you,” she stammered shakily. “I—I’m really sorry I’ve inconvenienced you.”

Well, there was another first, he realized as he stalked across the hall to retrieve the lavender gown that was draped over the end of her bed. No one had ever apologized for inconveniencing him and scaring him half to death before. He snatched up the garment and quickly reversed direction.

“Put this on while I retrieve Skeet.” He jerked his pistol from its holster and his knife from its sheath on his thigh. He laid both weapons beside her. “Anybody comes through that door besides me, you shoot ’em, and stab ’em a couple of times for good measure. I’ll be right back.”

She stared at the weapons with rounded eyes, then peered up at him.

“And don’t tell me you can’t or won’t shoot,” he demanded gruffly. “You’ll do what you have to do to protect yourself and that’s that.”

Cale wheeled around and marched out the door. Once he was in the hall, he sucked in a deep, steadying breath, and told himself to calm down. It was easier said than done. In the last quarter of an hour something had shifted and resettled inside him. He couldn’t put a name to it. Wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Hell and damnation, his brief association with the mysterious Miz Magnolia was altering his life in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He couldn’t deal with her without being affected by her. Furthermore, he’d only had to worry about protecting his own hide for years. Now he was saddled with an incompetent female who naturally attracted trouble and didn’t know how to handle it effectively.

He had to be capable enough to protect her, as well as himself. Yep, he decided on his way down the steps. He definitely had to teach that helpless female several self-defense maneuvers or he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, wondering who’d be waiting to molest her when she struck off on her own in the West.

His life had suddenly become complicated, he realized, as he hiked off down the street to collect his dog and ensure that Sarah’s attacker was carted off to jail.

Hanna levered herself onto a wobbly elbow, then pushed upright to shed her torn gown. The delighted anticipation of gathering supplies had been ruined by the unexpected attack. But what disturbed her most was the way she’d flung herself into Cale’s arms the instant he arrived on the scene of disaster. For some reason she was embarrassed to have a man as capable and self-reliant as Cale Elliot witness her incompetence. Why that should matter so much Hanna didn’t know. But it did matter—a lot.

When Cale came through the door with Skeet on his heels and his arms laden with packages, Hanna braced herself for another scathing lecture. To her amazement Cale didn’t light into her. He simply struck a rigid pose beside the bed, stared down at her with those eyes that were the color of the sky between midnight and dawn, and said, “I made arrangements for your meal to be brought up to you. If you’ll meet me at the courthouse after supper the judge can perform the ceremony.”

“Today? Really?” she squeaked in amazement.

He nodded briskly. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

That was exactly what Hanna wanted. She just hadn’t expected to have her whim met so quickly. But then she reminded herself that she was going to marry a man who was expedient efficiency at its finest. It was a trait she greatly admired. Someday she hoped the same could be said about her.

She stared quizzically at Cale when he reached out, as if to brush a recalcitrant strand of hair away from her face. He apparently changed his mind at the last moment, and his hand dropped to his side. The near gesture spoke of tenderness and comfort that she hadn’t expected from him.

Cale stared at the air over her head. “Maybe you should catch a nap, Magnolia. I’ll leave Skeet here to accompany you to the courthouse.”

When he pivoted on his heel, Hanna stared at his broad muscular back. “Thank you.”