Carol Finch - Bounty Hunter's Bride

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Hanna Malloy Was Desperate To Make Her Way WestAnd Cale Elliot was the perfect choice to launch her into a life of adventure. Now, since their hasty wedding, the legendary bounty hunter dared her daily to try new things. But would it be wise to fall in love with her own husband?What was a New Orleans belle like Hanna doing married to a half-breed sharpshooter like him? Cale wondered. True, she needed his wilderness savvy as much as he needed her polish, but how on earth had their convenient business arrangement taken a sharp turn toward «can't live without you» love?

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“For what?”

“For not raking me over live coals for my stupidity,” she murmured.

He glanced over his shoulder, making her squirm beneath that probing gaze that never failed to unnerve her. “Who ordinarily rakes you over live coals?”

He was prying again, and she couldn’t bring herself to tell him who she was just yet. “I’ll answer all your questions later,” she promised.

“After the deed is done?”

She tried to smile, but the puffy welt on her cheek made it a mite painful. “Precisely. When I marry you my troubles will be over.”

“And mine will have just begun,” he murmured on his way out the door.

Cale was decidedly uncomfortable with the emotions this dainty female aroused in him. This morning she’d touched his hand and insisted he was an honorable, worthy man—despite what the rest of the world thought of him. Then she’d scared him witless when she was attacked and mauled. Then he’d almost made the crucial mistake of touching her consolingly a moment earlier, as if there was an affectionate bond between them.

Hell, who was he kidding? He was just a means to her mysterious end, and he’d bargained to make her a means to his personal brand of justice. Don’t get sentimentally attached, Cale cautioned himself as he set off to tend his errands. His association with Miz Magnolia would last only a month—two at the most. He’d exchange survival skills for polished etiquette, and she’d go her way while he went his. End of story.

He had to quell these fits and starts of lust that kept lambasting him at unexpected moments. A deal was a deal, after all. Having her come running to him for comfort and protection had been hard on his blood pressure—and certain parts of his anatomy. She might be his wife after supper, but she was still off-limits, he reminded himself sternly. And if he had a brain in his head he wouldn’t let himself forget that, no matter how much he wanted to touch and taste and hold.

In name only, he mused in frustration. Helluva deal he’d made, wasn’t it?

Hanna awakened with a jolt and glanced apprehensively around the room, trying to orient herself to her surroundings. The instant she saw Skeet napping beneath the table, the unnerving incident in the alley came back in a rush.

Rolling off the bed, she knelt in front of the wolflike dog, which bared his teeth at her. “I know you don’t like me, Skeet, but I didn’t thank you properly for saving me.”

Although Cale had warned her not to make any sudden moves toward Skeet, she tried a new approach. She held out her hand, palm up, in front of his snout. The dog growled softly but didn’t snap. Hanna took that as a sign of progress. She didn’t try to touch Skeet, just left her hand dangling in midair until he took a cautious sniff.

After a moment she pushed to her feet and walked across the hall to retrieve the wedding gown she’d stuffed in one of her satchels.

Hanna dressed for her second wedding in less than a week. For certain, she was more enthused and eager than she’d been at the first one. Although she knew she didn’t mean anything to Cale, she wanted to look her very best. She’d chosen a gown with a low-cut neckline that buttoned down the front—to facilitate a quick change before she escaped through the church window and boarded the steamboat.

She tugged at the swooping neckline, but it didn’t help much. One gulping breath and her breasts would spill from the lacy confines. Well, she’d just have to remember not to breathe deeply until she shed this gown.

Once she had her hair pinned atop her head in a fashionable coiffure, she assessed herself in the mirror. She’d likely be overdressed to marry a man who preferred buckskins and moccasins. But he was doing her a tremendous favor, and she intended to acknowledge it by dressing like a proper bride.

Hanna was dismayed to note the welt on her cheek had turned black-and-blue. She dabbed on some powder to hide the bruise as best she could. Shoulders squared, head held at a determined angle, she marched toward the door, then yelped when Skeet sprinted past her, knocking her off balance. She braced her hand on the wall to steady herself, then opened the door.

Skeet padded into the hall, glanced this way and that, then stared up at her as if to say the coast was clear. Hanna smiled on her way down the hall, remembering the lazy, worthless hound her father kept around as a prestige symbol. That purebred creature couldn’t hold a candle to Skeet. Just as she couldn’t hold a candle to Cale.

The discomforting thought caused Hanna to grimace. She would prove herself worthy and competent, she promised fiercely. She was not getting by in life on her looks, even if her father insisted that was all she needed to do. She was going to count for something—as soon as she had the opportunity to discover what she was good at.

“Miss Rawlins, you look enchanting,” James Jensen said as she descended the steps.

Hanna smiled gratefully as the hotel proprietor came around the counter to position himself between her and the crowd of men who loitered in the lobby.

“I must say, I didn’t quite believe the rumors flying around the restaurant last night, but despite what anyone says, you’ve chosen a fine man. The best, in fact,” James assured her.

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Hanna replied.

“Er…even if this is rather sudden,” James murmured, “Um, all the same…”

She knew the hotel proprietor was dying of curiosity, fishing for an explanation for this whirlwind wedding. But Hanna was hesitant to confide the story to anyone. She simply smiled sweetly at James.

“I think you should know that a well-dressed, distinguished looking man named Richard Sykes, from the Pinkerton Detective Agency, questioned me two hours ago about a young lady who fit your description.”

The color drained from her face. Blast it! Her father hadn’t wasted a moment in sending out the troops. But then, she’d anticipated that. She just hadn’t expected to have Pinkerton bloodhounds on her trail this quickly.

James patted her clammy hand and veered down the hall. “Not to worry, my dear. I pleaded ignorance, but I doubt your secret will be safe for long.” He glanced pointedly at the crowd of men. “Cale left the buckboard by the back exit. There’s a young lad waiting in the alley to take you to the courthouse.”

Nodding appreciatively, Hanna exited and climbed into the wagon. Skeet hopped on to the wagon bed behind her. Apparently Cale was aware of the situation and wanted to transport her to the ceremony as discreetly as possible. She had the uneasy feeling he’d be full of questions when the ceremony ended—if he waited that long to demand answers.

An apprehensive sensation settled in the pit of her stomach while she was whisked down the alley at a hasty clip. For all she knew the agent could be watching for her, waiting to pounce. If the Pinkerton agent interrupted the wedding, her hopes of freedom would be dashed.

With a quick murmur of thanks, Hanna bounded from the buckboard and the young boy drove away. She moved swiftly toward the courthouse. Leaving Skeet to wait outside, she asked directions to Judge Parker’s chambers, then breathed a sigh of relief when she closed the door behind her. Now, if only Cale and the judge would show up so she could see this deed done quickly!

Hanna lurched around when the door swung open with a whine and an authoritative giant of a man with a tawny mustache, thick goatee and piercing blue eyes strode toward her. She smiled cordially as she extended her hand. “I’m marrying Cale Elliot,” she announced.

The judge’s stern expression softened and he chuckled as he took her hand. “So I’ve been told. Come with me, Miss Rawlins, and we’ll get the license in order before my deputy arrives.”

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