Bride Of Shadow Canyon. Stacey Kayne
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even the slightest movement.
“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered against her ear. “I’m here to help you.”
Don’t be afraid? The man had just crept up on her like a warm fog. The heat of his body easily penetrated the thin bed sheet.
His grip on her waist shifted, spinning her around while he kept one hand over her mouth.
Hard silver eyes locked with hers. Fear shivered through Rachell as she looked at the man towering over her. Dark stubble shadowed his strong jaw.
“You are Rachell Carlson, aren’t you?” His eyes narrowed with growing skepticism.
His hand still latched over her mouth, she did her best to nod.
“I’m going to release you, but I’m warning you, if you scream, we’ll both likely end up with a bullet in our bellies.”
His fingers eased away from her lips.
“I’m Rachell Carlson,” she wheezed, her lungs straining for a full breath.
“Uh-huh,” he said, the deep rumble of his voice barely above a whisper. “Then you’ll know who sent me here to fetch you.”
“My sister.”
“What’s your sister’s name?”
“Elizabeth.”
“Last name?”
“Coleburn,” she replied without hesitation.
The stranger cursed under his breath, filling her nose with an unexpected sweet scent. Apples. Before she could question his response, he took a step back and jerked the sheet away from her body with one swift tug. “Let’s get…holy…”
Rachell lunged forward and yanked the linen from his grasp. “They took my clothes,” she choked out, quickly covering herself.
“I see that.” He stared at the bed linen as though trying to penetrate the white barrier.
Rachell assured herself the dim lighting of the bedroom had concealed her brief nudity, but when he continued to stand there, stiff as a board, her skin began to sizzle with embarrassment. Spiteful women were always quick to comment on her scrawny frame. “Mr., um?”
“Jed.”
The single spoken syllable fell from his lips with the weight of a boulder. His eyes moved slowly up to her face. Another shudder claimed her body. She didn’t know if it was the lamplight reflected in the pale shade of gray or the intensity of his gaze, but his eyes held her captive, preventing her from even drawing breath. She lowered her gaze and another chill seized her spine.
The man could have been a shadow, a very large and masculine shadow. His shoulder-length hair was as black as the hat pulled low on his brow and the clothes clinging to his muscular frame. Only his piercing eyes and knee-high moccasins contrasted with his dark appearance. Every hard line of his body spoke of danger.
“Mr. Jed, what are—”
“It’s just Jed. Which one of the jackals downstairs put all those bruises on you?”
“Stewart Sumner,” she said, cinching her sheet a bit tighter. Stewart had more on his mind than taking her dress tonight. Thank goodness she’d convinced him she wasn’t worth the trouble. “He tried to…h-he tried…”
Jed Doulan felt an odd tug in his chest as he watched the petite woman tremble while tripping over her words. His body tensed, stifling an urge to pull the young auburn-haired beauty into a comforting embrace.
“I understand,” he cut in.
He’d seen the filthy lecher carrying a pile of scarlet silks and ruffles out of this room when he entered the saloon. He’d heard Sumner’s lewd comments when he’d joined his cronies at a poker table. Judging by the four bloody scratch marks on Sumner’s left cheek, she’d put up quite a fight during the removal of her dress. But, hell, he hadn’t expected her to be buck naked. Damn if he hadn’t seen a boot-print on her slender hip.
Anger lashed through him. No woman deserved such treatment. Jed’s gaze returned to her large green eyes. Relief had replaced the fear he’d first seen in them.
Jed felt no such relief. The nagging tension in his back told him he had just stepped into a hornet’s nest of trouble, and this was the first of many stings to come. At first glance, he would have sworn he’d tracked down the wrong red-haired woman. This little temptress certainly didn’t look to be the widowed boardinghouse keeper he’d come to retrieve.
Buck’s wife was a short redhead in her early forties and had said her sister was younger, but this woman didn’t look a day over twenty.
“How old are you?” he demanded.
Emerald eyes widened. “Pardon?”
“Your age,” he demanded in a low tone. “I’ll be damned if I’m gonna haul the wrong woman clear to California.”
Her posture stiffened. “I’m twenty-three.”
“And what was the name of that boardinghouse you told your sister you ran in Kansas?” He and Buck had peeked inside the carpetbag they’d found on the train. Only one type of boardinghouse had a hostess who wore such scanty red dresses.
Her eyes narrowed until they were slits of green.
Lord save me, she’s gonna be a feisty one.
“I am Elizabeth Coleburn’s sister!” she all but shouted.
“Lower your voice, you fire-haired imp, unless you plan on walking out of here alone.”
Her expression instantly clouded with worry. She tightened her hold on the sheet and took a step toward the window.
She was in a tangle, all right. Clear up to her pretty green eyes. He aimed to find out why. Again, his gaze inadvertently moved across the white linen.
Hell’s fire. The impression of her smooth rosy skin had been burned into his mind. He’d never seen a woman blush clear to her toes. Damn if it hadn’t been a beautiful sight.
“I’m gonna get you out of here,” he assured her. “But you’ll have to do exactly as I say. For starters, tie that blasted sheet around you so it won’t be falling off.”
She did as he said, tying it tightly around the gentle swell of her chest. “Mr. Jed—”
She reared back, clutching the linen as he stepped forward. Jed stopped. “My name is Jed, and I won’t harm you, Rachell.”
“You believe me then?”
Aside from being too young and too damn attractive, she’d given him the one answer that mattered. She was Buck’s sister-in-law. As such, he’d do anything necessary to protect her.
Damnation, but he had thought his days of bloodshed were over. “Yes, I believe you. The man downstairs with the cat scratches, he’s the one who’s after you?”
She shook her head.
Why wasn’t he surprised? “Who’s after you?”
“His father, Maxwell Sumner. I worked for him in Missouri.”
Oh, now she’s from Missouri instead of Kansas. “Hold on to that sheet.”
“But—”
“Hush,” he ordered, lifting her into his arms.
She trembled against him. Jed’s muscles tightened in an unexpected lash of desire.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve seen more curves on a fence post!
The internal blaspheme did nothing to ease the heated stir of his body.
“You’ll have to hold on to me.” He lifted his foot to the rim of the