The Ranger's Woman. Carol Finch
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The feel of his lean fingers sent a tingle of pleasure trickling through her.
His musky scent invaded her nostrils, heightening her awareness of him.
“It’s timing and precision,” Quinn said, his voice a husky murmur beside her ear.
Piper shivered, amazed at the unprecedented sensations that rippled through her. Why was it, she wondered, that this man affected her on so many different levels when none of her suitors ever had?
When she cocked her arm, while his hand guided the motion to ensure the proper flick of her wrist, she could feel his muscled chest pressed against her back. His solid thighs were meshed against the backs of her legs. The whisper of his breath caused gooseflesh to pebble her skin. Piper had difficulty breathing.
Sweet mercy! All she really wanted to do was turn in his surrounding arms and help herself to a taste of him…!
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.”
—Romantic Times
Praise for previous titles
Texas Bride
“Finch delivers another well-paced western with likable, realistic characters, a well-crafted backdrop and just enough history and sensual tension to satisfy western and romance readers.”
—Romantic Times
Call of the White Wolf
“The wholesome goodness of the characters…will touch your heart and soul.”
—Rendezvous
“A love story that aims straight for the heart and never misses.”
—Romantic Times
The Ranger’s Woman
Carol Finch
MILLS & BOON
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This book is dedicated to my husband, Ed, and our children, Kurt, Jill, Christie, Shawnna, Jon and Jeff. And to our grandchildren, Livia, Blake, Kennedy and Brooklynn. 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 One
Southwest Texas, June 1877
W hat the devil am I doing, Piper Sullivan asked herself as she stepped up into the stagecoach to endure more endless hours of being bounced and jostled in her arduous journey westward. Thus far, she had encountered six unruly and offensive individuals during her exhausting trip from Galveston to Fort Stockton. And the rugged-looking traveler who sank down across from her had all the markings of further trouble. He looked unapproachable. And as disagreeable as the meal she had ingested at lunch.
Piper pegged the man as a shiftless gambler, judging by his style of dress and the well-used pistols that hung low on his hips. She watched him sprawl inelegantly on the seat across from her. His long, muscular legs straddled her feet to accommodate his six-foot-four-inch frame.
The solemn expression in his golden eyes assured Piper that this was not a man who was teeming with charm and warmth. And worse, he kept staring at her. Through her was more like it, as if he was probing beneath her outward appearance to reveal the fact that she was an imposter.
Piper had carefully disguised herself as an aging widow, complete with a thick concealing veil, gloves, cane and padded black gown that made her appear thirty pounds heavier. Unfortunately, she didn’t feel as well protected as she would have preferred when her companion kept appraising her astutely.
Piper thought it was ironic that for the first time in her life she wanted people to take her at face value and not probe deeper to discover who she was on the inside. But to her way of thinking, the lack of association with anyone during this trip was important. She also decided that making a bad first impression would help to protect her from trouble.
As she’d done with the others, Piper made a point to alienate her companion by getting in her bluff, right from the start. “Staring is considered rude where I come from,” Piper declared as she squirmed uncomfortably on the hard seat.
The man never changed expression and he didn’t move, which annoyed her because he still had her feet trapped between his long legs and she felt pinned in. That was not what she needed while battling the sour stomach caused by her midday meal.
“Would you mind giving me my own space,” she requested. “I paid for half of these meager accommodations, after all.”
When he whipped his head around his long dark hair scraped the collar of his jacket. His square jaw—that sported three days’ growth of stubble—clenched. His thick brows swooped down as he leveled an intense stare on her.
As stares went, this one was quite unnerving. But Piper had squared off against her domineering father enough times during her twenty years of existence to learn how to hold her ground. This rough-edged rascal was not going to intimidate her.
“You’ve got a complaint?” he drawled in challenge.
She nodded curtly. “Indeed I do.”
He made a stabbing gesture toward the ceiling. “Then ride up top with the guard and driver if you don’t like the company or the cramped space.”
His smirking voice was like gravel and grit and it set her teeth on edge. Was he purposely trying to annoy her? That was supposed to be her role to protect her identity.
Piper didn’t think he was putting on an act.
Resigned to an unpleasant journey with her disagreeable companion, she occupied her time by glancing out the window to pan the miles of rolling range that seemed to stretch out forever. And as she recalled her father’s unacceptable decree that she would soon wed a man he had handpicked for her, she