Reckless Territory

When desire collides with danger, rope up and hang on for the ride. Lady Victoria Mead cannot believe fate has been so cruel to her yet again. First, her father squandered the family fortune and died in the process. Now, her quest to secure a future in America has been foiled by an attack on her wagon train, leaving her alone and half-naked in the wilderness. Her only hope lies in three outlaws who seem to have absolutely no idea what to do with the proper daughter of an English earl. Ranching partners Cole, Jace and Robert can handle any threat with cool, swift precision. But when it comes to the gloriously lovely Lady Victoria, who seems to have no discernible survival skills, they’re in the dark. Underneath Victoria’s fragile exterior lies an inner resilience they all come to admire—and a deep well of sensuality that tempts them to offer her a permanent place in their home, their beds…and their hearts. Warning: Strong sexual content, multiple partners, Western bad boys, Western bad language and some mild violence

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B Cincinnati OH 45249 Reckless Territory Copyright © 2012 by Kate Watterson ISBN: 978-1-60928-779-5 Edited by Jennifer Miller Cover by Angela Waters All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: February 2012 www.samhainpublishing.com

Reckless Territory Kate Watterson

Dedication

For Juanita Brand in friendship and the recognition of a kindred soul.

Author Note

The setting of most of this story is in the state we know as Colorado today. In 1857 Colorado was not even a territory—that was established in 1861. It consisted of parts of the territories of Kansas, Nebraska, New Mexico and a little bit of Utah. So, no, there are no mountains in Kansas now, but once upon a time, there were.

Chapter One

1857 The smell of smoke woke her right before the screams began. Lady Victoria Mead sat up, feeling disoriented at the burst of sudden sound around her. What the devil is going on? The wagon was on fire, she discovered that soon enough, for the ceiling burst into flames in a rush of heat and noise. She scrambled up, flinging the blankets aside, and heard the staccato sound of gunfire add to the general confusion. Panicked, she crawled to the back and slid out without even bothering to grab her robe, her heart pounding. It was very dark, and the night sky, which could be so spectacular, was dead black with heavy clouds. The only illumination was the vivid fiery evidence of disaster in the form of dozens of burning wagons. It lit the area and reflected eerily off the melee of fleeting forms and men running everywhere. It was chaos, and she had no idea what to do. A scream locked in her throat as a horse and rider suddenly loomed out of nowhere. She had a brief impression of a fierce face, bronzed bare chest and then pain as hard hands swept her up and an unladylike shriek escaped her throat. At the moment of captivity, she understood. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been warned of the tensions between the settlers and the native people who occupied the land. It was just that the journey so far

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had been so tame it was almost tedious, and she hadn’t expected the attack. Obviously neither had the scouts who rode along with the wagon train. The warrior ignored her furious struggles, and all she could hear was the incessant screaming, some of which were probably her own cries for help. She could feel the thundering power of the horse and her captor’s implacable grip as she lay sprawled facedown across his thighs, his hand twisted in her long hair and holding her still though she tried to desperately squirm free. The retort was lost in the general wild confusion of noise, but she felt the effect when the bullet hit. Suddenly her abductor loosened his grip and swayed, and she heard him say something in a language she had never heard in her life. The horse didn’t slow, not even as his rider pitched off, and suddenly she was pounding away from the fire and turmoil in a violent rush of muscled runaway power. Run, she thought dimly as she clung to the neck of the fleeing animal. Please run…

The pall of the smoke, the eerie quiet and the carnage he was more than happy to leave behind. Cole Thune nudged his stallion and abandoned the wagon train massacre with relief. “Damn,” Jace Vance muttered, his horse cantering alongside. In the midmorning sun, his young face looked pale under the brim of his hat. “That’s not something I’d care to see again.” “Me either,” agreed the third member of their small party, his mouth set in a thin line as he rode on the other side. “Relatives of yours, Cole?” Cole gave his friend a sardonic look. Few men had the nerve to make joking remarks over his half-breed heritage, and besides, Robert Forester knew full well

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Cole’s mother had been Lakota. “They didn’t leave any of their dead behind, so it’s hard to know what tribe might have attacked those poor devils.” “No survivors.” Forester shook his head and squinted at the horizon where the sun had just come up. Incongruous to the carnage they had just witnessed, the morning was clear and beautiful with the sky deepening to a stunning pure blue and a cool, clean breeze now that they were moving away from the stillsmoldering wagons. “Whichever bunch is so riled up, let’s move along so we don’t run into them.” “Amen to that.” Though he’d seen his share of violence, Jace was younger than either of them and he looked grim and stricken. Even his usual lazy air and soft Texan drawl were in abeyance. Cole felt a bit stricken himself by the graphic scene of violence and destruction, but he’d learned a long time ago to keep emotion under control. Anyone who decided to brave the West needed to realize it wasn’t the friendliest place, not by a long shot. He’d adopted the policy of looking ahead rather than regretting the past, and it had worked pretty well so far. “We should make decent time today. I’d guess we’ll reach the valley in less than a week.” It was true—the open prairies had started to break up, and rolling hills and small groves of trees now spotted the landscape. Soon they’d see the glory of the Rockies, but there were still quite a few miles to go before they got to the ranch. He couldn’t wait. He had the deed in his pocket, and it was tied up tight and legal. No more drifting, no more riding a grub line and God help him, no more bloodshed and dodging the law. Years passed, names became obscure, even one as infamous as his with a little luck. They rode on until thankfully the scent of burnt cloth and wood faded and the sun inched a bit higher. It was warming up, he noticed with a grimace, and was probably going to be a scorcher later on.

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“Hey, Cole, Rob, what in the hell is that?” He glanced in the direction of Jace’s pointing finger and frowned. They’d just ridden over a small ridge and at the bottom was a vale with a cluster of cottonwoods and a tiny stream. Something white showed through the underbrush, and as they urged their horses closer, it became evident that someone was there, lying under a small bush. A woman, Cole realized incredulously as he pulled up, swung out of the saddle in a quick motion and went over. It had to be from the mass of golden hair spilling over the grass. As his companions dismounted, he knelt down beside her limp form. She was half-naked, the garment loosely draping her slender body torn almost to her waist, and the part of the thin material that did cover her was damp with morning dew, leaving little to the imagination. She breathed, Cole could see it from the lift of her full breasts, the opulent flesh quivering as her chest rose and fell. Pale, wet, with her sticky lashes on her porcelain cheeks and her lissome body barely covered, she was like some sort of bizarre erotic mirage. What every man might dream of, Cole thought as he looked at her. A gorgeous, almost-nude woman in the middle of literally nowhere. They hadn’t passed a town in days. For a long moment, none of them spoke, the two other men peering over his shoulder. Cole had a hard time finding anything to say. Finally, Robert murmured, “Jesus. I’ll be damned.” “I’ve always thought so,” Cole muttered. “Me too, I suppose.” “That’s the truth.” Robert gave a small snort. “But I meant, what is she doing here?” “The wagon train, I reckon.” Jace rubbed his jaw. “I’m surprised she got away, and how in the hell did she get this far? I bet we’ve come five miles.”

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“Is she hurt?” “Hard to tell.” Cole realized they all were staring at her bare breasts. He appreciated a shapely woman as much—if not more—than the next male, but she was not even awake, and as cynical as he had become, he felt guilty for looking at her. Tentatively, he reached out and touched her shoulder. “Miss?” She wasn’t deeply unconscious, for she stirred a little and a moment later her eyes opened. They were a deep, perfect blue, framed by lush lashes, and the moment she focused on his face, they widened in pure horror. Well, damn it, of course. If she was the single living refugee from the ill-fated wagon train, waking to a man who clearly had Indian heritage bending over her wasn’t exactly going to give her comfort. Quickly, he said, “It’s all right.” “No!” It was a gasp, part scream, part panic, and she sat up, the damaged white gown she was only half-wearing sliding completely off her slim, shaking shoulders. “Oh, God, leave me alone, please.” “I’m not going to hurt you.” He tried to speak as calmly as possible and sank back on his heels, holding up his hands in an unthreatening gesture. “I promise. We were just riding along and saw you lying here. Tell me, are you injured?” She fought to cover her nudity by snatching up the torn cloth, and semisucceeded in shielding what he had already decided might be the finest pair of breasts he’d ever seen. “No…yes, I don’t know.” Her response was punctuated by small sobs. “Where am I?” “Western Kansas.” “Western Kansas?” She looked dazed and her mouth trembled. Her cultured but unexpected accent registered, and Cole frowned. “You’re English?”

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She shivered, her eyes dilating as her gaze moved from his face to Robert and Jace, and then back to him. Her voice was barely audible. “Yes, from Wiltshire. But I am traveling with my aunt and uncle to California.” Cole had learned a long time ago to not sugar-coat the truth, and he shook his head and said quietly, “Not anymore, I’m afraid.” The man squatting in front of her was as foreign as the yawning cobalt sky, and the scent of pungent prairie grass very different from the verdant vegetation of her native country. Confused and disoriented, Victoria stared at him. He had sleek, dark hair worn long and straight, the glossy raven strands hanging past his wide shoulders. The features of his face were oddly elegant with high cheekbones, a square jaw and a straight, aquiline nose. There was no mistaking the shade of his bronzed skin or the midnight hue of his mesmerizing eyes. Though the hint of wildness was belied by the normal shirt and trousers, he had on strange, soft leather shoes of some kind, laced up to his knees. Under the plain cloth of his shirt, his chest looked imposingly wide. “Did you try to carry me off?” she asked in a panic, the events of the evening before only flashes, like some vague nightmare full of fire and horrific screams. Her head ached. There had been shouting, and a man on a horse that came out of the darkness… “I told you we just found you.” He looked back at her and shook his dark head. “Ask my pards here. I’m not exactly an angel, but no, I don’t kidnap women.” He might say that, but why was she sitting there with three men looking at her, and how had she gotten into such a position? For heaven’s sake, to her horror, she was almost…naked.

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“What happened?” Her nightdress was little more than shredded cloth and she could feel the breeze whisper across her bare shoulders. If she pulled it up any more it exposed her legs, and if she pushed it down it left her breasts almost entirely uncovered. She wanted to die of mortification, but her near nudity was no doubt the least of her problems. One of them, a handsome young man who couldn’t be more than a year or two older than she was, with blond hair and a lean, tanned face, gave her an openly sympathetic look. “You don’t remember anything, ma’am?” Smoke, panic, shouts, gunfire… “Not specifically,” she confessed, her mind whirling. “People were yelling, shots were fired…I think we were attacked.” “You’d be correct in that assumption.” The dark-haired man rose in one lithe movement to what seemed like a towering height, his face impassive. “There are no others left alive, and everything was destroyed.” She blanched at the blunt declaration, and one of his companions, this one with brown, curly hair she could see because he’d politely removed his hat, glanced at him in obvious censure. “That’s a sensitive declaration.” He turned to her. “Cole isn’t exactly gifted in the tact department, miss, but he’s right. I’m sorry, but from what we saw, you are the only one who got away.” Her aunt and uncle, both dead? She had not known them well, but they had been kind enough to her in the short time of their acquaintance, and she felt the loss with true regret. “Dear Lord,” she whispered and turned her face away, her throat tight. “I’ve a clean shirt in my saddlebag, let me get it.” The young blond man moved toward his horse with a slow jingle of spurs and a long stride. “She definitely needs something to wear.”

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“Good idea.” The one referred to as Cole turned and surveyed their surroundings quickly, his dark eyes glittering. “We should probably ride on as fast as possible in case there’s more trouble. I’ve got an uneasy feeling being so out in the open like this. Can you stand?” Realizing the question was directed at her, Victoria managed a feeble nod, though she was certain if she got to her feet one of two things would happen. Either she’d faint dead away from the realization she was suddenly stranded in the middle of the wilds of the American West with three strange men, or her nightdress would completely fall off. Both sounded equally embarrassing and awful. But better than perishing in a horrific massacre, she supposed, a hot tear trickling down her cheek as she thought of her aging relatives who had taken her in after the death of her brother. They hadn’t known her any more than she had known them, her father’s only brother having left England decades before. It had been daunting to sail off to America on her own, but she’d had little choice with no money or family left in England. This current predicament was even more intimidating. She’d been raised in a pampered environment with privilege and social standing. She was a lady, used to balls and soirees, fine wines, elegant gowns and the whirl of London’s beau monde. There was nothing civilized about the endless vista of waving grass, steep ravines and the unfamiliar brush of a wild, keening breeze. The three men now looking at her so expectantly didn’t seem out of place either in the dangerous surroundings with their guns prominently strapped to their lean hips and the watchful look in their eyes. The tall one took the shirt from the younger man, draped it around her shoulders, and extended his hand. “Let’s go. You can ride with me.”

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Chapter Two

There was something disconcerting about having a woman’s pretty much bare bottom nestled against your groin for most of the day. Cole had ridden just about everywhere, and he’d thought under all conditions—rain, driving snow, ice, oppressive heat, Chinook winds—but this was a new experience. Give him a prairie fire or thunderheads piling up in the distance any day. Dangerous as those situations both might be, they didn’t hold a candle to his current predicament. Though they hadn’t engaged in much conversation, and he hadn’t wanted to push her because she seemed to be in a state of shock, finally he managed to wheedle her name out of her. Lady Victoria Mead. He wasn’t much of an expert on the English aristocracy, but her admission she was the daughter of an earl was supported by her soft, refined speech. That finding a proper well-bred lady half-naked under a bush in the wilds of Kansas was a surprise was an obvious understatement, but apparently that is exactly what had just happened. And now what the hell were they supposed to do with her? Leaving her behind to die hadn’t been an option, but he saw the same perplexed expression on Jace’s and Robert’s faces he imagined he had on his own. At first she’d been stiff as a board, perched in front of him like the true lady she was, knees together, her back rigid, but after a while she’d dozed against him. Now she was tense again, which meant she was awake. The sky had

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darkened perceptibly as the afternoon wound down and reddish streaks showed above the rugged landscape. There was a line of trees in a small valley ahead indicating a stream, and Cole nodded that direction. “Let’s make camp.” It was a little early, and alone they would have pushed on, but there were definitely other considerations at the moment. “Good idea.” Jace glanced over in an unobtrusive manner at his burden, drawing his horse closer alongside. “You doin’ all right, miss?” “Yes, thank you.” The answer was hushed, yet somehow regal even from someone pretty much half-naked. She’d rolled up the sleeves of Jace’s shirt, and the contrast to her slim wrists supported the fragile feel of her in the circle of Cole’s arms. Robert had insisted on giving her his hat, which was probably a good thing, for her skin was lovely, smooth and pale. Definitely not up to a blistering western sun. The spot was perfect, a grassy knoll lined with graceful willows and stately cottonwoods, with a small, clear stream rushing in a musical cascade over tumbled rocks. Cole halted his big bay, and Jace, who had already dismounted in one lithe movement, stepped forward to take his slender burden before solicitously setting her on her feet. “Thank you.” Under the brim of the hat, her fine-boned face was hard to read, and her eyes looked enormous. The shirt reached almost to her knees, but there was still a very tempting view of trim calves and shapely ankles. Cole slid off his horse, wondering again if Jace and Robert were both as much at a loss as he was. Usually they joked with each other as they made camp, but this time, they all started to unsaddle their mounts without a word. The girl just stood there and watched for a moment or two, before she said in a hesitant voice, “The stream looks lovely. I wouldn’t mind a cool drink and perhaps a moment of privacy.”

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It was Robert who slid his rifle free from where it was slung on his saddle and nodded. “Let me just walk over with you and make sure there aren’t critters around, of the four, or two-legged variety, for that matter. If it’s safe, you can take all the time you need, miss.” “That’s kind of you. And I appreciate you loaning me this.” She took off the hat, revealing all that tumbled, shining blond hair. The dying glow of the setting sun lit it with a golden fire. He be damned, Cole thought—and that was probably a given anyway—if she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Before he’d ended up with a wicked reputation for using a gun and a price on his head, he’d traveled widely. Boston, New York, Richmond, down south to New Orleans…and Lady Victoria, even disheveled, wearing a garment meant for someone twice her size, with a streak of soot on one cheek and barefoot, was without equal. Jace was obviously having similar thoughts, for as she walked away with Robert, his gaze was fixed on the subtle sway of her hips and those shapely bare calves. He said under his breath, “Sweet Jesus. Doggone if we aren’t either the luckiest—or unluckiest—hombres on this heah planet.” “Yes.” Cole glanced at him. “This is one hell of a complication I never imagined.” His friend rubbed his lean jaw, still watching the young woman who suddenly seemed to be their responsibility. “Yeah,” he agreed in an almost morose voice. “I heard her tell you she’s got no family left now.” “Here or in England,” Cole confirmed. “I didn’t ask much more. Seemed too cruel to harass her with a great many questions. Her aunt and uncle were slaughtered last night, she lost everything she owned and right now she’s dependent on three men she doesn’t even know. I’d guess the whole of it hasn’t really sunk in yet.”

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“I’d be pretty damned numb myself, Cole.” “And you can take care of yourself. That’s my point, pard. She can’t.” “Yeah.” Jace dropped his bedroll by his saddle. “She’s not just a female alone in the world, she’s an English lady.” “If she can do as much as brew a cup of coffee, I’ll fry up my saddle and have it for dinner.” “What are we going to do with her?” The way the question was phrased was unfortunate. Cole lifted a brow and said dryly, “I can think of a few things.” “I bet you can. I lay down sure money Robert and I can too, but I wasn’t asking your cock, dammit.” Jace laughed but sobered again right away. “You and I are wanted men, and it’s no secret Robert rides with us. We’ve got a price on our heads in two states. She can’t stay with us.” “What are we supposed to do? Dump her off in the nearest town?” Cole asked the questions grimly, his thoughts focused on the problem ever since they’d made their unusual discovery. “My conscience still exists enough that I don’t view that as an option.” “Surely we can come up with something better than that.” Jace watched Robert walk back towards them, rifle in hand. The air held the sweet tang of late summer, heavy and redolent of grasses and dry earth. “Maybe we can send her back east.” “To where? If she had options there, would she be headed toward California?” “A woman who looks like her always has options.” “Not good ones. Can you see her in a brothel?” “Hell no! I didn’t mean that.” Jace was clearly outraged. “Don’t even say it.”

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“Well, with no money, she might not have much of a choice.” Cole added in a cool, detached tone, “Right now, I think we are the best hand she could have been dealt under the circumstances.”

In the past year her life had taken some interesting turns. As Victoria sat on a fallen log by the small, cheery fire, a shiver of despair racked her body though the air was warm. She had been raised with certain expectations. All women of her station were. Her father was the heir to an aristocratic title, their home large and filled with servants, and she’d had governesses, dancing masters and fine clothes. She was expected to marry well, run an efficient home, bear her husband children and ease gracefully into old age. But it had all been a sham. An illusion based on debt, falsehoods and social deception. Upon her father’s death she’d found out to her horror that her acute grief was for a man who had never told her the truth and never once done anything except gamble away his family’s fortunes. It had been an elaborate illusion, and her world had crumbled along with it. Maybe had her brother been able to bear the disgrace with her, she would not be so bereft. But Nathaniel had died in a tragic accident—she would never know the truth, but she suspected it was by his own hand—just two weeks after their father perished. As the only surviving member of her immediate family in England—her mother gone five years before—she’d been left alone and penniless. Yes, perhaps she could have married out of desperation, but her family disgrace meant she was no longer looked at as the belle of London society, and the predators had come calling, hats in hand, with the most insulting offers possible.

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She liked to think she wasn’t the kind of person who chose the most passive course in life. But this…this…was not what she’d envisioned. What am I going to do? When she thought about her dilemma with cold, clear logic, it was beyond frightening. She had no idea where she might be, had no money, no clothes, no family. Nothing. “More beans, miss?” The question brought her out of her reverie, and Victoria looked up. The young man kneeling before her had clean-cut features, a head of tousled blond hair and eyes the color of a clear summer sky. It wasn’t like she hadn’t already had her share of beans on the journey with her aunt and uncle, but that seemed to be all there was for dinner except for some dry biscuits. The men didn’t mind, eating with appreciation and drinking coffee so strong she nearly choked to death, but she really had no appetite and had forced down what she’d eaten so far. “No…but thank you very much, sir.” “Sir?” His brows shot up and he laughed. “I haven’t been called that very often. Use Jace instead. Suits me better.” He pronounced the word “that” with a soft, compelling accent so it sounded more like “thet”. “Where are you from?” “I’m proud to say Texas, miss.” He tipped his hat as he spoke and smiled boyishly. It lit his face, but there was nothing boyish about the very deadly looking pistol strapped to his muscular thigh. The informality in America was something she had to adjust to, but it wasn’t easy, not when she’d grown up in the strict grip of English society. Then again,

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maybe formality was wasted in such a wilderness. She inclined her head just a little. “Maybe another biscuit to fill you up? You didn’t eat much.” “I’m not very hungry,” she admitted. “I reckon I can understand that with what’s happened. Just holler if you need anything.” He straightened and moved back toward his companions. Holler, she thought with a welcome and surprising twinge of amusement filtering through her fatigue. That wasn’t a word she was acquainted with, but she could guess the meaning. At least they’d given her a blanket she could wrap around her entire body so she wasn’t half-exposed in one way or another. The shirt she wore still left her legs bare from the knees down, and the sun had burnt the tops of her feet, so she winced nearly every time she as much as moved. The cold water of the stream had been a boon though, and she had rinsed away the smoke and dust from the attack, and the stickiness from riding in the sweltering humid air all day. Now that she was coming back to life and dealing with the tragedy of what had happened, a part of her knew she should be afraid. Yet she wasn’t, not really. Perhaps she was numb, but she thought it was more the demeanor of her companions. If they were villains, they hid it well, for they quietly talked between them, a low, easy laugh ringing out now and then, and seemed to consciously avoid contact with her unless it was to offer food, drink or some other form of physical comfort. If they did harbor ill intentions toward her, her weary mind recognized there was little she could do about it. “You should sleep.” She looked up, startled out of a near doze, to see the tall, dark one, the one they called Cole, bend over. Before she could protest he picked her up as easily

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as if she weighed nothing and carried her over to where a nest of blankets made a makeshift bed, a saddle for a pillow. He laid her down gently, nodded once, his dark eyes inscrutable, and then stalked back to his seat by the fire. She was exhausted, but nonetheless, their low conversation drifted to her. “We’ve got a week…maybe ten days left in the saddle.” “I know.” “She’s too delicate for it.” That was Robert Forester’s voice. She recognized the distinct Bostonian accent. It was more cultured than the other two, but all three seemed decently educated from their actions and speech. “We can’t push it that hard.” “We’re behind schedule already.” “I know, but—” “The English have been riding, raiding and generally holding on to that damned island and half of the rest of the world for over a thousand years.” Cole’s brusque voice came through as he interrupted. “She might be a blueblood, but I think she’s a mite tougher than she looks. If you’ve noticed, she hasn’t complained. Not once yet.” “She hasn’t spoken much at all, Cole, because she’s still all torn up inside over what happened,” Jace argued in his soft, drawling voice. “This is the West. Women have to be pretty resilient to make it out here. There are no drawing rooms and servants bringing tea. She knows it, I’m sure, from the time she was on the trail with her aunt and uncle. A wagon train isn’t a picnic in Hyde Park. Right now she’s just scared and confused and alone.” “Alone except for us. Three men she doesn’t know.” Robert gave a small snort. “I’d be scared too if I woke up with you looming over me, Cole. You might be half white, but the way you wear your hair and those damned moccasins make you look all redskin.”

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“If I fancied your scalp, you’d be bald already, Rob. Besides, the man wanted for murder in Arkansas wore his hair short and dressed like a cowboy.” Murder. Even in her drowsy state, she registered the word, but strangely enough it didn’t cause enough alarm to even rouse the energy to lift her eyelids. The way Cole picked her up, so gently, and even the comforting circle of his arms as they rode earlier, belied the idea the man was a murderer. When she’d woken, cradled against his hard chest, the strong beat of his heart under her ear, and realized where she was with a stab of terror as the events of the night came rushing back, he’d known. Though he hadn’t said a word, he’d lightly touched her cheek in a gesture of comfort. Robert also, and Jace Vance, had been solicitous and gentle, as if she were a fragile object that might shatter at any moment. Odd as it might seem, with no clothes except a man’s borrowed shirt, no money, no relatives and relying on the mercy of strangers, she felt safer than she had in a long time.

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Chapter Three

The hat was fine, for it covered her golden hair and shaded her face, and the shirt Jace had bought was deliberately a little big so those delectable breasts were not quite as noticeable, but unfortunately the pants fit perfectly. “I’ve got a better eye than I realized,” Jace murmured hoarsely as they watched Victoria emerge from the patch of woods where she’d gone for privacy to dress. “Swear to gawd, I thought she’d look like a boy.” “Yeah, well, you missed by a mile, Jace.” Robert studiously turned away to fiddle with something on his saddle so he wasn’t staring so obviously. “Those pants couldn’t show off she’s a girl any more if you tried.” “Woman,” Cole corrected softly. “All woman. Damn.” The gentle sway of her hips as she walked toward them was unconscious and graceful, and even with the hat pulled low, booted, dressed in male clothing, Lady Victoria was so obviously a female no one would be fooled. “At least she can ride her own horse,” Jace said with a shade of protective defensiveness in his voice. “That’ll help.” Help whichever one of them had her double on their mount not to have to ride all day with a perpetual erection. It went without saying it had happened to each of them, and they’d decided—not just for her sake—the faster she was covered from the top of her head to her pretty toes, the better. So Jace had been sent into the nearest town—all of them together were way too conspicuous—to buy a decent horse and some appropriate clothing. He’d gotten what he was supposed to purchase, but the hell of it was, it might just make things worse.

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“It all fits quite well,” she said as she approached, her prim accent a reminder that while she might be out in the wilderness with nothing but windwhipped prairie grasses and rolling vistas spotted now and then by patches of trees or willow-lined rivers, she was a proper, pampered English lady. It had been three days since they’d found her, and Cole had to acknowledge she was game all right, for the days in the saddle had brought forth no objections, no feminine whining over the heat, the trail dust, the jolt of such a long ride. She’d tried to help out too, with camp chores, but that hadn’t been a very successful venture so far. Domestic skills were obviously left out of an aristocratic lady’s upbringing. “Thank you.” “Yeah, it does fit,” Cole drawled ironically, his gaze skimming over her slender, shapely form. “Can’t be helped, I suppose. You ready to ride? We’ve been here half a day and I wouldn’t mind making some miles before sunset.” She nodded, though he noted she looked at the glossy chestnut gelding Jace had purchased in town with trepidation. The horse seemed to have a decent disposition, and the owner had sworn it was well-behaved, but it did have some spirit and even now tossed its head against the reins in Cole’s hand. He frowned and said bluntly, “You seem skittish about this, and the horse is going to sense it. You sure you know how to ride? If you don’t, we aren’t going to think less of you, but—” “I could ride almost before I could walk,” she interrupted, a hint of indignation in her tone. “It’s just…well…the saddle.” He and Robert and Jace exchanged glances, obviously all three of them wondering what the hell she was talking about. It was a perfectly good saddle, not new but not worn either, purchased along with the horse. “I’ve never ridden astride. It isn’t…done,” she explained, and under the brim of her hat, her smooth cheeks held the hint of a blush.

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Of course. The light dawned. She was used to riding sidesaddle, Cole realized, feeling a little like an idiot, but then again, who would even consider such an impractical bit of etiquette in the middle of godforsaken Kansas. When she’d ridden with them, she had always sat in front sideways, legs primly together. He’d give his gun hand to see those lovely thighs spread apart and himself cock-deep between them, but for now, she needed to forget how she’d been raised and climb on the damn horse. It was well past noon and the sooner they were on their way, the better. “It’s done here.” He led the horse toward her, hoping she was right and could handle the animal, because it seemed a mite skittish. “I’ll help you mount up.” He instructed her to grab the saddle horn and put her left foot in the stirrup and then helped her swing into the saddle, adjusting the stirrups to the right length with deft movements before mounting his own horse. To his relief, he saw within the first few minutes she was telling the truth, for she handled the horse with the unconscious instinctive ease of experience, and at least he could relax about that worry. It seemed natural to fall in next to her, though Cole hadn’t been aware this protective side of him existed. For someone who looked so fragile and dainty, Lady Victoria had adapted pretty well to her circumstances, though he did wonder if she recognized the predatory male interest directed her way. By all three of them. He hoped this wasn’t going to become a problem. “This seems strange, but in truth, I think it is more comfortable.” She looked adorably surprised, with wisps of golden hair brushing her neck and her fine brow furrowed. “I thought it would be very awkward to ride astride.”

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“I’m trying to picture how to perch only on half of a horse,” Cole told her truthfully. “What a stupid contortion. It’s far safer to sit right in the middle. Besides, I promise you, out here, practicality is much more important than what anyone might think of your manners.” “There is no ‘anyone’,” she responded with a small laugh. “I was unaware places like this existed. No one lives here. I don’t know if you can imagine, but after the bustle and crowded humanity of London, this is like another world.” “I can imagine.” She shot him a sidelong look. “More than imagine, I’d guess. You aren’t a stranger to big cities. Where did you attend university?” Their little English lady was not only lovely, but she was also astute. “Out east,” he admitted. “My father insisted, and with my heritage, he had to use some influence to get me in. I took law, but it wasn’t for me.” “Your speech gives you away.” She controlled her horse with a capable hand, obviously not even thinking about it. A small frown marred her smooth brow. “Your mother was…” “Lakota,” he supplied. “Lakota,” she repeated, the word obviously not familiar. Cole grinned and indicated his hair with a gesture. “Pure bloodthirsty Indian.” “I doubt she was bloodthirsty or your father would not have fallen in love with her and insisted his son go to university.” The romantic sentiment was unsettling, but accurate enough he laughed. “Actually, you are right—she was one of the gentlest souls I have ever known.” “Was?” “Both of them are gone now.” “Then the two of us have a lot in common. I am also alone.”

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Cole was not at all convinced that a cynical half-breed outlaw had anything in common with a proper English lady, but he supposed what she said was true on that one point. “You aren’t alone.” Where the hell had that come from? Before she could comment, her lovely eyes widening, he spurred his horse forward and took the lead, telling himself he needed to scout for trouble and he usually rode in front.

She was safe. And yet she wasn’t. A paradox if there ever was one. Victoria watched as her three companions efficiently set up camp in a small grassy area guarded by a ring of trees, their movements swift and sure. She’d come to know their habits, and them, in the past week “on the trail”, or so they called it. Robert, polite and easygoing, with his quick smile and sun-touched chestnut hair, always solicitous. Jace, more intense, his soft, compelling accent and courtly manners balanced by an edgy wildness. He couldn’t be much more than her twenty years and yet the holster and gun belt buckled around his slim waist were well-worn, and he had the confidence of someone much older. Cole was unique also, more brusque, cynical yet considerate underneath, the one most likely to be caught watching her, though all of them were aware of her presence at all times. She felt a little like a doe who had stumbled into a bevy of stags during mating season. This was, she reminded herself, a foreign country—a wild,

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unsettled foreign country, and she was a woman without protection, but it wasn’t like she had a choice. Odd, wasn’t it, how she didn’t feel uneasy or threatened. Maybe, she thought, throwing a sideways covert glance at her companions, she was more protected than any woman around. All three of them held a certain air of danger even she couldn’t miss, and it wasn’t just the arsenals strapped to their hips and saddles. “I wish we had more to offer than this plain grub, miss, but it is the best we can do. I’ve been out each mornin’ hoping to run across a flock of wild turkeys, but haven’t been so lucky.” Victoria accepted the plate Jace handed her, noting the usual beans and biscuits with a less-than-enthusiastic eye, though she would never complain. “Wild turkey?” “A big, ungainly bird, miss,” he said, dropping down next to her in his easy way with a grin. “Except when in flight or on your plate.” His boots were dusty, his pants worn, and he wore odd leather covers over them they called chaps. With his hat off, his hair was tousled attractively, and he smelled like the wind with a dash of camp smoke and a hint of horse. It wasn’t at all unpleasant, which surprised her. “You have a plethora of unusual animals here.” “Unusual to you, maybe. Not to us.” That was probably true. Victoria took a forkful of beans, trying to have a new appreciation for the salty taste and soft texture. She chewed and swallowed. “I suppose England would seem strange to you.” “Strange? I’m not so sure, miss. Are all the women there as beautiful as you? I haven’t ever met a woman who could compare to the glory of a sunset across the mountains.”

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She was not unused to admiration in the eyes of men; she just was much more accustomed to it when in a crowded ballroom with a suitor about to bend over her gloved hand. This young man’s openness was appealing because there was nothing cultured about it—no posturing, no poetic floweriness for the sake of seeming to be charming or gallant. It was flattering because she thought he meant exactly what he said. “I am sure it is like anywhere else. We are all different.” She added softly, “But thank you. What a lovely compliment.” “Jest the plain ole truth.” He smiled, a boyish grin that transformed his already handsome face. “I usually talk pretty plain, but you…” He trailed off suddenly and rose to his feet, all at once grim. The wind whistled eerily through a nearby copse of trees. “Cole?” “Yeah, I smell it.” Confused, Victoria tried to register anything new but noticed nothing except the smoke of the fire and the exotic odors of the trees and various grasses. Robert swore under his breath. “I catch it too. How far off?” “We need to move. The Cimmaron is pretty close. Two hours’ ride, maybe. I hoped to cross it in the daylight, but we don’t have one hell of a lot of choice, do we? Let’s go.” She stared at Jace, who bent and took her plate out of her hands. “The Cimmaron?” “It’s a decent-sized river,” he said somberly. “Good thing we’re this close.” “Why?” She got gingerly to her feet, wobbling just a little. The hours in the saddle weren’t the easiest on her posterior and aching thighs. “Prairie fire, miss. I’ll eat my boots if it doesn’t smell like one, and I reckon they ain’t tasty. Come on.”

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His grasp on her hand was steely, and a few minutes later she found herself lifted back on her quickly saddled horse, her three companions swinging themselves gracefully onto their mounts, their faces set. “Stay with her,” Cole ordered, and, as usual, he rode ahead, setting a brisk pace. Robert and Jace hemmed her in, one on either side, and she caught the sense of urgency in the way they kept glancing back. What the devil? She dared a backward glance but saw nothing, though she did now detect the hint of acrid smoke. Less than a half hour later, when it looked like the sun was coming up behind them though it should have been dead dark, she truly became alarmed. Her horse, easy enough for her to manage at first, now tossed his head and fought the bit, and even the men had trouble with their mounts, murmuring soothing words to the animals as they spurred forward. Though they had to be tired from the long day, the horses were not difficult to urge to a gallop. Speed, the wind, the landscape flashing by… Cole reached the river first, his horse splashing in as he whipped off its back. He came forward and caught her reins, and her horse waded in to its haunches. Moonlight rippled off the churning water, and Victoria gasped as she was hauled from the saddle and pulled against a hard male body with an iron grip across her waist, breast to chest. “Hold on.” “For what?” she asked, barely able to breathe. “The inferno.” “I don’t—” “You’ll understand soon enough,” he interrupted. “Can’t you hear it? It sounds like a low wind at first and then thunder in the distance. Look at the horses.”

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He was right. The animals tossed their heads with increasing agitation, whinnying and thrashing in the water. What’s more, other creatures, also fleeing the oncoming wildfire, streamed into the water. Rodents first, ignoring them as they paddled by in droves, and then bigger animals: wolves, which didn’t even glance their way, the smaller coyotes, deer, even snakes, some five or six feet long, swimming past as if they didn’t exist, heading for the opposite bank. A nightmare, Victoria decided, the jostling in the water around her enough to make a sane person scream. She wasn’t sure how it happened, but her arms were around Cole’s neck and she clung to him, squeezing her eyes shut, pressing her face to his throat. “We need to be wet,” he told her, his breath warm against her ear. “Hold your breath just for a second.” He ducked them under, the cool water closing over her head, and since she didn’t know how to swim, she would have normally panicked, but she was well beyond that stage. When he stood up, both of them streaming water, she realized the full extent of their danger. The sky had turned a lurid color but it was the angry sound of the fire that was horrendous. It crackled, it screamed, and it blended with the cries of the animals. She had the horrible feeling she was also screaming, but the sound was muffled against Cole’s hard shoulder. The sparks came first, one singeing her back so she stiffened, the elemental blast probably lasting only a few minutes but the heat of it so profound she felt as if she had landed in the depths of hell itself. Then, remarkably, it was over. A thick haze of smoke lay over everything when she slowly opened her stinging eyes. Cole still held her, his clasp reassuring. “Easy,” he murmured, but there was soot on his face, she saw through the watery tears from the acrid aftermath of the raging fire. “We’re fine now. The worst is past.”

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It was true. She could vaguely see Robert and Jace struggling to hold their panicked horses, their wet kerchiefs draped over the animals’ eyes. Bits of burning debris floated everywhere, and the pall of smoke was like a thick, choking mist, but that horrible roar was gone. “She all right?” Robert called out, his voice ending in a cough. “She’s fine.” Cole still held her close against him, and Victoria realized to her mortification he had one hand cupped around her bottom and her breasts were flattened against his hard chest. He lowered his head so his mouth brushed her ear. “I’ll be damned if you don’t even look beautiful covered in ash and soaking wet. No wonder we’re all going a little bit crazy.” He looked beautiful too, his sleek dark hair clinging in silky wet strands to his strong neck, those high cheekbones and midnight eyes evidence of his heritage, and pressed up against him as she was, she could feel the honed strength of his very male body. Then he kissed her. The sensual journey of his mouth was slow and beguiling. It trailed from where his lips had been pressed against her ear across her cheek, following the line of her jaw until his mouth covered hers. His lips were warm and firm, and the probe of his tongue shocking but not unpleasant. Clinging to him, Victoria closed her eyes again, but for an entirely different reason, and gave a small gasp he swallowed as he teased and stroked. Their lips clung, and somehow the nearcatastrophic primal force of the fire seemed to fuel the heat between them. She parted more. He accepted and slanted his mouth over hers more fiercely… “Hey, damn you Cole, I can see you’re kind of enjoying yourself over there, but mind giving us a hand here?” Her savior lifted his head, grinned in a flash of white teeth and obligingly waded to a shallower spot and set her down, letting her slowly slide down his

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body. Victoria felt a flush in her cheeks that wasn’t just the residual heat from the fire as he went to help Jace and Robert with the spooked horses. We’re all going a little bit crazy… For that matter, her own body tingled at the moment in some interesting places. She’d noticed them watching her, of course. She was used to male attention; it was part of why she’d left England. Once the scandal of her father’s financial disaster broke, men who might have offered for her hand offered something else entirely. The idea of being mistress to some haughty aristocrat who no longer thought she was good enough to marry but certainly desirable enough to bed held no appeal whatsoever. What was more, she had come to despise the falseness of a society that held wealth and social status in such high regard that her friends had turned their backs on her simply because she was suddenly poor. The three men who had just saved her life yet again owed her nothing. They could care less about her aristocratic bloodlines, her social status, her fortune or lack of it. They’d been kind, generous and respectful at all times, and truthfully, more gentlemanly than most of the bluebloods she knew back home. From some of their remarks she’d guessed that maybe all three of them were in trouble with the law in some way, but she’d stake her life—and had in an ironic sense, since she was so helpless—they were all three good men. Her pampered background hadn’t given her one single skill to help her survive in the wilderness. She couldn’t cook, saddle a horse or shoot a gun. She couldn’t even recognize the signs of a giant fire bearing down on them. They gave her everything and she gave back nothing. All three of them wanted her. She’d grown up sheltered, but the past year had taught her a few things about life and one of them was that hungry look in a man’s eyes. Beauty was about her only possession at the moment.

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At any time, they could have easily taken what they wanted. Defenseless and alone, she was all too vulnerable. But they hadn’t. They wouldn’t. No, but as shocking as the idea was, she could give it.

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Chapter Four

It didn’t say much for their powers of observation, but it took them a good half a day to realize Victoria was hurt. Part of it was trying to ride out of the devastation of the prairie fire, though the river had really slowed it down. Still it had been dark, the night full of smoke and places where small blazes smoldered. Victoria had ridden gamely until dawn, and when it became obvious from her sagging figure she was exhausted, Robert had taken her up with him and she had fallen asleep in his arms almost right away. But when they finally stopped to eat and rest on a small knoll, the wind rippling the long grass, and he slid from his horse to reach up to help her down, she visibly winced. What the hell? “You were burned?” Robert ignored her protest, gently turning her by her shoulders so he could look at her back. Sure enough, the material of her shirt was singed right below her left shoulder blade, the hole the size of his thumb, which was a relief because it was probably painful but not serious. However, he didn’t want it to turn septic. “It’s nothing,” she said. “I barely felt it at the time, and it’s a bit sore, but hardly worth bothering over.” “Let me be the judge.” He lifted her soft, fair hair, the curls tangled after the dousing in the river, all of them and their belongings still smelling like smoke, but at least they were alive. He peered at the wound as best he could through the hole in her shirt. It looked angry and red enough to give him concern.

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“It’s nothing,” she repeated. “I bet it hurts like hell,” he said bluntly. “Let me take a better look.” There was a small spring feeding a little creek and he took a clean cloth from his saddlebags and soaked it in the cool water. He had some salve he used for everything from bee stings to gunshot wounds, and he brought that also to where she now sat with her legs primly to the side. Cole was deftly doling out hard biscuits and dried beef strips as a makeshift lunch. What a far cry from a London ballroom, but she endured it all with a poise Robert found gave him a whole new respect for the English aristocracy. He knelt next to her. “You can go ahead and turn your back, but you’ll need to unbutton your shirt and slip it down.” Victoria stared at him with those lovely, luminous blue eyes. “I…” When she faltered, he said in his best calming tone, “I took medicine at university until I decided to ride west. I may not be a practicing physician, but I do know what I’m doing. Let me treat the burn, we’ll eat our meal and then be on our way. Trust me, you’ll be more comfortable.” Burns were notoriously painful and the muscles in her slender throat rippled as she squared her shoulders and complied. Kneeling in the grass, the sun showing the dazzling highlights in her golden hair, she worked the buttons of her shirt free and slipped it down, using her hand to sweep the long fall of her curls to the side, exposing her graceful back. Her very naked back. Meaning her breasts were also bared, even if they couldn’t see them. Robert could sense Cole’s and Jace’s riveted attention, and he really couldn’t blame them, but he needed to concentrate on the task at hand. The welt was ugly, marring her otherwise flawless skin, and he first gently washed it and then applied the salve. During the process she didn’t move, her

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head slightly bowed, the loose, stained material of her shirt pooled around her waist. “Better?” he asked, and then cleared his voice over the unnatural huskiness. Jesus, he had an erection and all he was doing was touching her back. True, she was half-naked at the moment, but still, he should have more self-control because, after all, she was injured. Then she shifted, not quite a turn, but enough so she could give him one of her winsome smiles over her shoulder. “Better. Thank you. I wasn’t aware of how painful it was before now.” They could all—every single one of them—see the pure tempting silhouette of her naked right breast. The nipple was a delicate rose, pointed and high, and the mounded flesh perfectly shaped and sumptuously full. Robert felt his mouth go dry and he couldn’t help it, he stared. He had the impression behind him both Cole and Jace had gone still, just as frozen as he was, their fascinated gazes no doubt also focused on the same part of her anatomy. Then she seemed to realize how exposed she was, for she blushed and pulled her shirt back up hurriedly, fumbling with the buttons. They were in real trouble here. Rescuing Lady Victoria was both a blessing and apparently a curse. “Excuse me.” Jace got up to stalk away. Robert stifled a laugh, because he had a feeling he knew just what his friend was going to go do. Relieving his own discomfort manually might not be a bad idea, though it wouldn’t be half as good as the real thing. “I didn’t know you were a physician.” Victoria had turned around, her face still pink, and reached for her plate, gamely picking up the day-old biscuit which for even someone accustomed to trail fare tasted like sawdust.

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“I never finished.” Robert fought the urge to adjust his straining cock and wiped his hands off with the damp cloth instead. “Got close, though, before the urge to roam a little became strong enough I left Boston.” He grinned. “I do know how to dig out a bullet, if need be. That’s how I met Cole.” “It was?” Victoria turned toward where Cole still sat, grimly chewing his food and trying to pretend like he too was not aroused by that tantalizing glimpse of her breast. She looked horrified, her lovely face blanching. “You were shot?” “It’s happened once or twice.” Cole shoved himself to his feet. “I haven’t always kept the best of company.” Robert stifled a laugh at the quelling look he received. Too bad, he was going to tell the story anyway. “He was walking down the street in St. Louis, and Cole ran into an old…well, let’s say, a lady friend who remembered him pretty well. She tried to shoot him in a certain strategic spot, but lucky for him, her aim was off and she got his thigh instead. I happened to be nearby and saw the whole thing. He didn’t want a regular doc, so I helped him out.” “A rather dramatic way to meet.” Victoria smiled and Robert felt his groin tighten even more. “Instant friends, I take it.” “We get along together well enough.” She turned to Cole, who was now packing up the food. “Forgive my curiosity, but why was she so angry with you?” “Hell hath no fury,” Cole said in a laconic tone. “I slipped out of her bed without saying adios. She was fonder of me than I was of her and I’d already figured out she had a temper. I didn’t know how to tell her my affection for her person was only based on a physical act she showed a lot of enthusiasm for, so I left. I thought I’d handled it pretty well until she drew that pistol.”

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Both Robert and Cole watched her reaction to that somewhat bawdy recital. She was such a lady, proper and well-mannered, which was no surprise considering her background. But she was also a true lady in the sense she had a natural grace that Robert had a feeling would draw men to her even if she wasn’t so damned desirable in every other way. “I see.” She somehow managed to look demure and provocative at the same time. “I’m in the presence of a true rake then, am I? Is my virtue in danger?” Victoria should have had enough of fire after the night before, but there she was, playing with it. Taunting a man like Cole Thune surely qualified. The expression on his face said he clearly remembered that audacious kiss in the river. So did she. It had awakened something inside her. In those distant ballrooms back in London, she had, during her brief season before her world crumbled to pieces, learned something about the art of flirtation. Of course, this uncivilized country and her rescuers were nothing like the sophisticated haut ton dandies in England, but the basic concept was the same. Man and woman. A dance as old as time. Only there were three of them and only one of her. She’d deliberately turned enough a few moments ago they could see her bared breast, and the ploy had a predictable effect. Was she a harlot for wanting to give them something back for all they’d done for her? No. But perhaps she was for being so attracted to three different men. The wind whistled past on a lonely sigh, reminding her no one would ever know—or care—if Lady Victoria Mead took a lover without the benefit of marriage. Or if she took more than one lover, for that matter. In this lawless place, what rules applied? There was no one to care if she lived or died.

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Except they cared. Cole stared at her, his dark eyes unreadable, his lean, rangy body still by the side of his horse, the saddlebag half-packed. Robert also, wide-shouldered, with his hazel eyes, seemed at a loss for speech. To tease them, she explained, “A rake is a man who seduces women and—” “I’ve heard the term,” Cole interrupted in a silky voice, holding her gaze. “And no, I don’t think I qualify. Seduction implies a certain finesse I doubt I have. When I want a woman, she damn well knows it.” That look singed her very soul. He wanted her, it said. “I see,” she murmured, with effort not averting her eyes. “Do you?” Robert also had a singular intent expression on his handsome face. “I think we’d better ride on.” “I agree.” Jace approached, his spurs giving a slow musical jingle. “We’re two days out from the ranch, if that. Let’s move on if Lady Victoria isn’t too tired.” She was tired. She was dirty and smelled like smoke, and her thighs, bottom and the spot on her back hurt, but the idea of a roof over her head again appealed so much she stood and nodded. “I’m quite fine.” “You sure?” Robert was no doubt the most thoughtful one. Jace was wild, and Cole, well, Cole was dangerous. “I’m sure,” she said, though she barely managed to stifle a moan of discomfort when she was helped back into the saddle. By the time the sun had started to lower, born horsewoman or not, she was definitely ready to be off her horse, whom they had all christened Lucky. It was obvious they were more familiar with this terrain, for they chose a spot near a

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river they called the Big Sandy, with willows dipping trailing fingers into the water and stately cottonwoods. Water. Washing. Both she and her clothes needed it badly. It was the prettiest camp they’d had yet, and all of them had been exotically pretty, at least to her. Victoria slid stiffly to the ground before any of them could help her, and announced, “I am going to bathe.” “Not alone,” Cole said in clipped tones as he heaved his saddle off his horse. “We’ve had some trouble with the Utes around here. One of us needs to stand guard.” “You can all watch for all I care,” she said with more bravado than she actually felt, but truthfully, she was too sticky and uncomfortable to care. She’d endured a lot lately from the horrible scandal, to the turbulent sea voyage, to a country she’d never seen, to vengeful Indians, then to wild sweeping fires. There was a sense of adventure inside her she never knew existed. Here she was, dressed in boy’s clothes, in the care of three men who were not precisely on the correct side of the law. “All I know is I need to wash away the stench of the smoke.” “I’ll go.” Robert and Jace both said it at the same, then exchanged a look of mutual annoyed amusement. “I’ll go,” Cole declared into the ensuing silence. He glanced at his companions with a keen-eyed stare. “You make camp.” It had become obvious to her very shortly after they rescued her that Cole was the leader, though they all had their roles. A small flush spread over her body as she turned and walked down the slope toward the river, because she knew earlier she had issued an invitation, and she had reason to believe Cole had every intention of accepting it.

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Once upon a time, she believed she would lose her virginity in the traditional way. A bed in a fashionable bedroom, with a staid husband who had married her for duty to sire the requisite heir, dousing the lights as he came to her on their wedding night. Later, she would then join the circles of ladies who whispered of distaste over their husband’s attentions as they drank insipid tea and nibbled on dull pastries. But nothing in her life lately had happened the traditional way. She could have remained in London and become a rich man’s whore, taking money and shelter for her favors, but a future as an expensive courtesan had never been an option in her mind. This was different. This was her choice. Where had this wanton come from? At the moment her heart pounded, and as she climbed down the bank toward the river, there wasn’t trepidation but exhilaration coiling inside her. Cole easily caught up with her, his long stride slowing to accommodate hers, his rifle in his hand. “You in a hurry?” he asked, an edge of amusement in his voice. “Maybe a little.” She wondered if he could hear the pounding of her heart. There would be no distaste. She just knew it. But then again, he was not her husband—she wasn’t sure what he was…guardian? Companion? Friend? But she did know one thing. He wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t abandon her, either, because he and Jace and Robert could have done that already. That was extremely important in a life that had lost all stability. The river was low, earning its name with small bars of pale gold sand, but it did have pools in certain places and she eyed one with appreciation, sitting down to pull off her boots.

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“I’ll turn my back.” Cole’s voice was much throatier than his usual brusque tone. “It looks safe enough but you can’t tell and I’d better stay close by just in case anything—” “Join me.” Victoria stood and started to unbutton her blouse. It took some courage to actually open the cloth and discard the garment, standing there just in her boyish pants, but she did it. Then she unfastened her trousers, stepped out of them and waded gingerly into the water.

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Chapter Five

It seemed to him, if Cole correctly remembered the classical studies rammed down his throat in his youth, that goddesses frequently tortured their inferior human counterparts, and he sure as hell hoped that wasn’t what was happening at the moment. It was a soft evening, the kind he loved, with the sun lowering in a haze of red, the shadows of the trees thickening along the soft flow of the river, and the air smelled fresh and clean. Victoria, gloriously bare from the top of her shining head to her toes, was thigh deep in the water, her pale skin unblemished except for the red welt Robert had treated earlier, the only imperfection visible. She was Venus, he decided, his cock at full mast at once from the view. Temptation incarnate, especially for someone like him—an outlaw, no longer used to the refined women he’d left behind when he’d ridden west and found notoriety. Full firm breasts with soft rosy nipples, a narrow waist that flared gently to her hips, and the small dainty triangle between her thighs, a darker gold than the pale shade of her hair… As he watched her shake back her waist-length curls and sink down in the water, he fought off the urge to simply jump in and haul her into his arms. The memory of what she felt like against him in the river the night before would undoubtedly haunt him forever. Join me. His jaw clenched. She didn’t know what she was asking.

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Or did she? He’d wager high stakes she’d never stripped naked in front of a man before. So far she’d been modest in every way, and even now—though the throbbing need between his legs made it hard to think straight—her face was just slightly averted and he could see the flush on her smooth skin. “The water feels very nice,” she said haltingly, her breasts submerged enough he could only see the creamy top curves. He really didn’t live by rules any longer—he’d abandoned them a long time ago when falsely accused of a crime he didn’t commit. But he had his own set of scruples. Rule one was he’d never force himself on an unwilling woman. But God, he wanted her. “Does it?” he said, still on the bank, holding his rifle. She nodded but didn’t quite look at him. The invitation hadn’t been given lightly. “You really want me to join you?” “If you’d like.” “Oh, I’d like all right,” he drawled softly, “but you need to be sure you know what you’re doing. A naked man and a naked woman together usually spells one thing. Even a pampered English lady ought to know that, but I want it clear between us.” “I’m no longer all that naïve, Cole.” Her voice was quiet over the gentle ripple of the water. “I’ve been orphaned, saddled with the stigma of my father’s debt, robbed of my home, my future, thrown first on the mercy of distant relatives and then the kindness of complete strangers. I left my country and my old life behind when I decided to come here. If I wish to offer you something society would censure me for, well, I hardly think it matters out here.” She made a sweeping gesture at the river, the rolling hills, the mountains just visible in the distance. “Trust me when I tell you that in the eyes of fashionable society I would

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be irrevocably ruined after spending the past eight days in the company of three men without a chaperone anyway.” Then she smiled, finally looked directly at him and added, “There is a certain freedom in being free of the previous constraints in my life. Last night when you kissed me…well, it was pleasant.” Pleasant? He’d give her a hell of a lot more than pleasant. After one more swift keen-eyed assessment of the shoreline and trees, Cole unbuckled his gunbelt and set it on a flat rock, laid his rifle down next to it for easy retrieval, and unbuttoned his shirt. His moccasins went next, and he was more than aware of her watching him as he straightened and unfastened his pants. It was a relief to let his straining cock free, and the widening of her eyes as she stared at his erection confirmed what he already knew. “You’re a virgin.” He tossed his pants aside and splashed into the water, walking toward her. Such a stupid statement, but then there wasn’t blood left in his brain at the moment. Of course she was untouched. That was about to change. “Yes.” He probably should leave her that way, but he wasn’t known for always doing what he should do. The water was cool on his heated skin, and it was no wonder, for he was on fire. Pebbles from the bottom of the riverbed bit into his feet, but he couldn’t care less. She was still immersed in the small pool, and he reached for her, lifting her up so water streamed off her flawless skin, her damp hair spilling over her slender shoulders. “You should have more than this,” he said gruffly, looking into the pure blue of her eyes. “Are you proposing, Mr. Thune?” Her brows lifted just a little in evident amusement. Her voice held a proper tone belied by her naked status waist deep with him in the river. “If not, and I am guessing you aren’t, tell me what could be

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better to any woman than this gloriously lovely evening and such a beautiful setting?” He’d meant she deserved a wedding ring and a soft bed, but she was right, that wasn’t possible. There wasn’t anyone who would argue the fact that he’d make one hell of a bad husband, but he did know how to please a woman. Cole pulled her into his arms and kissed her hungrily. The resilient feel of her bare breasts against his chest made him groan into her mouth, and his hard cock rose between them, probably shocking the hell out of her. He smoothed his hands over her shoulders, mindful of her burn, and clasped her waist, urging her closer. The water swirled around them as they kissed, and her small hands tentatively settled on his shoulders. He broke away, trailed his mouth down the column of her throat and wickedly licked her collarbone. Then he did what he’d wanted to do since the moment they’d found her under that bush, and moved lower to take one perfect nipple in his mouth. She arched with a startled gasp as he suckled and swirled against it with the tip of his tongue, and he smiled inwardly, vowing she was going to make that delicious sound again. And again. She tasted like the river, and also the sweet salty essence of her skin. Cole lavished attention on first one breast and then the other, his heart pounding so hard he wondered if it might exit his chest. Despite the cool water, his arousal surged, and he knew he’d have to slow things down for her if he was really going to do this right. This was not going to be just a quick, mindless fuck. That conviction scared him a little, and if he allowed himself time to think about it, it might scare him one hell of a lot. “Here.” He released the succulent crest of her breast and swept her up, carrying her dripping body toward shore. Making love standing up was

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enjoyable enough, but not for a first time and not when she needed to be ready and hot and panting for it. And she would be. Cole chose a place where there was a patch of soft grass beneath one of the willows, level enough for his purposes. After he gave a brief check for snakes or anything undesirable that might join them, he carefully deposited Victoria, dropping down next to her to brush her wet hair from her shoulder. “Still sure?” He was going to ask that every step of this journey. “Yes.” The unequivocal agreement puzzled him a little. She had reason to guard herself against him, and for that matter Jace and Robert as well. She was wellbred and innocent, and they were hardly saintly, polite gentlemen. “I’m not arguing your decision, but why?” Her smile was a faint curve of her soft mouth. “Can’t we analyze my motives after?” She had a damn good point. What the hell was he doing when she was naked in his arms? He ran his hand over the mound of one firm breast, weighing the luscious flesh, cradling it in his palm as he stroked her peaked nipple with his thumb. “This is your first time, so I’d better take care of you first, sweetheart. Spread your legs.” Shockingly nude in the slanting evening sunlight, his silky hair so dark it held a blue sheen, loose and hanging past his powerful shoulders, Cole matched their surroundings well. A warrior in a wild land, untamed and beautiful. His chest was hard, the musculature defined, his stomach flat and taut, and high against his stomach his sex swollen and erect. He smelled primal also, of smoke

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and windswept prairie grass with a hint of musky male. The unconcealed hunger in his eyes was predatory and his flagrant masculinity overwhelming. She wanted to be overwhelmed. The sight of his long, bronzed fingers working against her pale breast made her pulse flutter in erratic bursts and an odd tension held her body prisoner. Victoria had to wonder what impact he would have on a London ballroom. No doubt the refined ladies would be horrified at the idea of a notorious outlaw in their midst…and paradoxically fascinated beneath their well-bred disdain. The heritage of his darker skin and long black hair was evidence of his native blood, but he was half-white, and in any country, his striking handsomeness would draw the female eye. “Spread your legs,” he repeated, holding her gaze. “Wide. I’ll make it worth your while. You have my word on it.” She was sprawled on a riverbank, unclothed in a bed of soft grass, with a naked man looming over her and touching her intimately. Having come this far, though the idea was embarrassing, she might as well comply. I’ll make it worth your while… Cole had a way of being straightforward. Jace called it “shooting from the hip”, and she had interpreted that as meaning he didn’t lie. Victoria took in a breath and opened her thighs. At first a little, and then emboldened by the swift change in his breathing as he stared at her now exposed sex, wider. He shifted in a panther-like movement, his tall body settling between her open legs, lowering his dark head to tease her inner thigh with his mouth, lightly nipping the flesh. She might not know a lot about the sexual act, but it seemed to her he was in entirely the wrong position. “What are you doing?” She gasped as his tongue actually brushed her pubic hair.

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“I’m going to lick you, sweetheart.” He glanced up from his prone position with a wicked grin. “And you’re going to love it.” He was going to do what? Was he seriously considering… He was. Large hands cradled her hips, holding her in place as true to his word, he began to softly move his mouth against her sex, parting the folds with wicked skill, tonguing a spot that made a jolt of pleasure sweep through her. She should protest. No lady would ever let a man do something so wicked, so… But oh, the sensation. Delicious spikes of rapture made her tremble, and she moaned, her hands skittering for purchase and clenching fistfuls of grass. The soft sound of the flowing river, the creak of the insects in the trees, the smell of earth and vegetation, all of it faded away and her only world was the feel of Cole’s tongue licking, swirling, even invading her female opening in long, daring strokes before sweeping back up to that singular spot. Something foreign built, swelled, took hold with a relentless grip. It carried her upward, her spine arching, her muscles quivering. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything more than make small, inarticulate sounds of enjoyment. Then it happened, a flashing pinnacle of rapture so powerful the white-hot impact of it was a searing revelation so intense she felt it in every nerve ending. In a haze of disbelief, she lay there in sprawled abandon in the aftermath, only barely aware Cole rose, bracing a brawny arm on either side of her shoulders. He laughed on a low exhale. “You look surprised. Just wait. Hold on.” She did, literally, grasping his biceps as the prod of his erection pressed her slit and the thick head entered her. Victoria opened her eyes, not precisely in distress over the stretching sensation but all too aware of his size, not just the

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height and weight of his body dwarfing hers but the hard length about to take possession of her. “Relax,” Cole whispered, his breath hot in her ear, “don’t tense up on me, sweetheart.” He nuzzled her neck and pushed in deep, the hot steely feel of his penetration accompanied by a stinging pain. “There we go. Hard part’s over. I’ll make this a good ride, or die trying.” “I trust you.” Victoria’s voice was unsteady, but the words were true. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have offered herself, offered this. He was now fully embedded, his lean hips against her inner thighs, the intimacy of their joining stunning. He froze, the fierce expression on his face intense, his gaze holding hers. Midnight dark eyes stared at her and he still didn’t move, though a drop of sweat ran down the lean line of his jaw. “Most folks would say you shouldn’t trust me at all,” he finally murmured, and kissed her softly, the tenderness of it at odds with the primal setting of a wild river bank. “What do you say?” Victoria murmured against his mouth. “I’d die to protect you.” It was a startling sentiment, said in a matter-of-fact tone, but before she could respond, he began to move. First a slick glide backwards that caused her breath to catch, and then a stroke back in, his breathing harsh. Victoria closed her eyes, the muscles of his wide shoulders so tense under her hands they were rock hard, his skin carrying a sheen of perspiration. It took a few moments before she realized her hips undulated naturally as they settled into an erotic rhythm of thrust and acceptance, and while he still seemed enormous, the discomfort was mitigated by a growing sense of pleasure.

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She gave another one of those unladylike moans at his next thrust, her nails digging in a little before she knew what she was doing. Cole hissed between his teeth. “That’s it, sweetheart, fuck me back. This is so damn good.” Gentlemen didn’t swear in front of ladies. It just wasn’t done, but she could care less about the crudity, she found. Cole was himself, he didn’t apologize for it, and she was discovering the measure of a man wasn’t in the fashionable cut of his coat, or the lineage of his exalted family, or even his fortune. It was more in the way he cooked a simple dinner efficiently over an open fire, cared for his horse, never complained about the cold, the heat, or even handled deadly situations with calm, cool courage and a clear head. It was in the way he took care to introduce lovemaking to an innocent lady by assuring her pleasure first. His hand slid between their moving bodies, and his fingers put pressure on that certain spot that caused her to gasp and clutch at him frantically. On his next inward push he did it again and the world began to spin. He said something on a low groan but she was already too far gone to catch it. Her inner muscles tightened, ecstasy flooded through every pore, and dimly she heard herself give a low keening scream as she shuddered beneath him. In turn, Cole stiffened, and his cock pulsed deep, a rush of hot liquid flooding her. They hung there, suspended for what seemed like an eternity, but it was probably only a few moments, his face buried in her outspread hair, broad chest heaving against her breasts. Finally he rose up, and the slow smile that curved his mouth was selfsatisfied male mixed with a little of the renegade outlaw. “Welcome to America, my lady.”

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Chapter Six

Jace stood on the riverbank, rifle in hand, not quite sure how to feel. Cole and Victoria had been gone so long he and Robert had become concerned, and when they heard a faint cry, they both agreed one of them should check. Robert had ended up staying behind with their horses and supplies at the camp, and Jace had soft-footed it through the trees along the river. Under no other circumstance could he sneak up on Cole. The man had the instincts of a wolf, but not now, not when he was between the pale legs of the most beautiful woman any of them had ever seen. They were an interesting contrast; brawny, bronzed male, all sinew and bulging muscle, and slender fair woman, her hair spread in the grass, her full ivory breasts quivering as she caught her breath. It surprised him he wasn’t jealous. Well, hell yes, he was envious he wasn’t the one inside her at the moment, but it was damned arousing to watch them. She’d liked it too. No secret there from the way her hand ran down Cole’s back in a lingering exploration, tracing the line of his spine. Jace saw him raise his head and whisper something in her ear, and she laughed, the light sound mingling with the music of the river. Yeah, she’d liked it, all right. This could be a problem. No getting around it, they all wanted her. Even back in Texas, where he’d grown up, Jace had never met a woman like her. He had the uncomfortable feeling he was more than half in love with her already, and he didn’t think he was alone.

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Turning around, he skirted several sapling cottonwoods and ducked into the cover of the brush. When he walked back into the circle of the small clearing they’d selected for their camp, Robert was kneeling by the fire, setting on a pot of coffee. His friend looked up sharply in question. “I didn’t hear shots.” “Nope.” Jace laid down his rifle. “No trouble then?” “Plenty of trouble, I’m going to guess, but Cole and Victoria are safe enough. I even reckon I can say they are feelin’ pretty damn good right now.” “Yeah, that so? Can’t say as I’m surprised.” Robert pushed his hat back a little, his smile rueful. “Cole looked pretty hungry when he followed her.” “Well then,” Jace said with wry humor, “he’s just had one hell of a meal.” “I’d say I hope he was gentle with her, but Cole’s not one to mistreat a woman.” “She didn’t seem to be complaining none.” Jace ran his hand through his hair, listening to the breeze rustling the leaves in the trees. A hawk went by, silent and graceful, the shadow cast by the sinking sun as the bird flitted past them. “This isn’t going to be simple now, is it?” Robert didn’t misunderstand. “Could be complicated, but I don’t think so. I haven’t noticed she prefers one of us to another. She’s refined lady, but she is very much a woman and also intelligent enough to know how each one of us is beginning to feel about her.” “Think so?” “It’s going to be up to her.” “Of course.” “As long as we agree on that. As I see it,” Robert said with a keen-eyed glance, “when we agreed to share the ranch, we all started over, and in that, we started a life together. We’re partners. Victoria being a part of that is like a gift.

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She needs us, and speaking for myself, I think she’s like an angel falling from the heavens.” “There aren’t many women out West, and none like her,” Jace agreed. Her refined beauty was unique in his experience. She fascinated him—not just sexually, but in every way. “I agree. But don’t underestimate her. This isn’t Mayfair but she can hold her own.” Robert was the most insightful person he’d ever met, and though he may be young, in Jace’s drifter’s life he’d met a lot of men. It was true, she treated all of them in a slightly different way, but he hadn’t seen a preference either. With him she was slightly flirtatious, with Robert friendly and warm, and with Cole there was always a certain tension—which they had apparently resolved. “We might be partners, but she doesn’t have to see it in that light.” “I’m saying,”—Robert adjusted the pot on the fire—“I think she’s thought all of it over. Look, Jace, she’d be the last person to want us at each other’s throats because of her. In nature, males are territorial and humans are no different, but as you said, this is the West. Women are scarce.” It was true, Jace thought as he got up to get some dried beef from the pack, their supplies at low ebb this close to home. For such a lady, the earl’s daughter had surprising steel under that refined exterior. What happened next would be damned interesting. Her thighs were sticky with semen, her hair had bits of grass in it from lying on the riverbank, and her skin held a light film of perspiration. And Victoria felt…glorious. Physically and emotionally. She had wanted Cole and he’d wanted her, and their coming together had been both elemental and yet at the same time, tender and giving. He’d withdrawn from her body and

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rolled to his back, his rangy body imposingly nude, his cock lax now between his brawny thighs. Lying with him was the single most unconventional act in her life so far, and she doubted it would stop there. “Did I hurt you?” A long finger traced through a runnel of his iridescent discharge on her inner thigh. “There’s a little blood.” Victoria found it hard to believe she could lie there next to him so unselfconsciously nude, but the open admiration in his dark eyes and his own lack of concern over his nudity, combined with the wild setting, made it all seem perfectly natural. She said, “Even sheltered English ladies know that you bleed a little when you lose your maidenhead. There was some discomfort for a short while, but I somehow managed to forget about it. Maybe you noticed.” Her smile was arch. “I notice everything about you.” She wasn’t sure what to say to that almost curt declaration. “I probably should have left you alone. But I have to say, sweetheart, of all the things I’ve done I shouldn’t have, and that’s pretty long list, I regret this one the least.” “Why should you regret it? You didn’t force me…I think maybe it was the other way around. I tempted you.” “You sure as hell did,” he murmured, the fringe of his thick lashes lowered slightly over his eyes. “I didn’t exactly fight it, though, did I? I’ve been imagining this since the day we found you. And none of us would ever force you. I’d stake my life on it.” Had she imagined it too? She wasn’t sure. Certainly from that moment when she opened her eyes and saw Cole looming over her, she’d been very aware of him as a man. The problem was, of course, she was just as aware of Jace, with his

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quicksilver smile and edge of wildness, and Robert, with his intelligence and thoughtful good manners. It was confusing, considering she’d been raised within the strictures of a society preoccupied with conventionality and rules. As if he could read her mind, Cole leaned up on one elbow, the muscles in his lean torso rippling impressively. His sleek, dark hair brushed his powerful shoulders, and the look he gave her could only be described as penetrating. “You made a choice today. What you need to remember, Lady Victoria, is you get to continue to make choices. None of us will ever push you into a situation you don’t want.” That didn’t exactly clarify her indecision on how to interpret her actions, but when he scooped her up suddenly and stood, wading back into the river, she decided to dismiss her unsettled emotions and instead revel in the cool rush of the water over her heated body, in the strength of his embrace and the soaring cobalt sky darkening above them.

The spectacular sunset left them with starlight vistas against velvet black, the air like fine wine, though Cole had to admit he barely recalled the vintages his father used to serve back in Boston. Now he drank whatever rotgut whiskey was available like everyone else, when he drank at all. Staying alive wasn’t all that easy to begin with when a man was alert and on guard. Compromising that seemed damned foolish. More foolish than ever now. He had something to live for and it had been a long time since he’d felt that way. Even purchasing the ranch, while it represented a new life, hadn’t affected him like the woman sitting across the fire.

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Victoria had combed her shining hair and was braiding it simply in the way he’d taught her, her fingers graceful. At first he’d been astonished to find a young woman who didn’t have such a simple skill, but then again, she’d explained with a hint of defensive embarrassment, her personal maid had always done her hair. Once on the wagon trail with her aunt and uncle, she’d just tied it back with a ribbon and tucked it into the bonnet she wore to protect her complexion. Already, since riding with them, though she kept her hat on almost all the time, she was no longer the epitome of the pale English rose but had acquired a hint of gold on her skin. Both Jace and Robert also were riveted, and it was evident she’d noticed that no one was talking but all three of them were just sitting there by the fire, watching her. She secured the end of the braid with a small leather thong and moved the thick rope of golden hair over her shoulder, and her dark blue eyes considered each one in turn. “Is there some reason all of you gentlemen are so quiet?” They were hardly gentlemen, and Cole least of all, since he’d taken her virginity just hours ago. Robert, ever the diplomat, was the one to answer. “I think we’re all trying to figure out how to handle what happened between you and Cole from here on out.” “Oh.” Her response was barely audible. Cole wasn’t sure what came next either. Just because she’d given herself to him earlier didn’t necessarily mean he had a claim. She’d offered and he’d accepted and he didn’t regret one touch, one kiss, and to his dying day he’d remember what it felt like to be inside her, but he had no illusions she was his alone.

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Even in the firelight, her vivid blush was visible but she was also remarkably poised and sat with ladylike composure on a fallen log Jace had dragged close to the camp for her, demure in her trousers and boots, her blouse loose at the neck, exposing her slim throat. It took her a moment, but she said with admirable composure, “I’ve been thinking quite in depth about what will happen when we reach the Crescent Moon.” They’d named the ranch after the shape of the small, secluded valley, and since they finally had the deed and it was all theirs, it was the subject of conversation on the trail pretty often. Victoria probably knew as much about it as they did by now. Jace rose from where he’d been poking at the fire with a stick to stir the embers. “I think you’ll find us pretty interested to hear what you’ve come up with.” “I can’t cook.” No, she couldn’t. Robert had tried to teach her how to make biscuits but it was clear from the results she’d never touched a pan, much less flour and lard. “Nope,” Cole agreed laconically. “That you can’t, my lady.” She sent him a quelling glance, but she had the innate grace to half-smile. “You didn’t have to agree so readily.” “It took me two days to recover from eating that biscuit. Thought I’d swallowed a horseshoe.” But he grinned when he said it, both in reassurance and because he had the impulse to grin anyway. She did that to him. Victoria laughed, but then went on doggedly, “I can’t saddle a horse, or sew a shirt or make soap either.”

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“We can buy our soap and shirts, and you’ll learn to cook,” Robert argued. “One of us will saddle your horse for you. We understand about your upbringing. It doesn’t matter.” Leave it to Robert to know exactly how to sum up the situation. It didn’t matter to any of them she had none of the skills needed for a woman to contribute to a working ranch. She’d brought grace into their restless lives. Buying the ranch was a good start, but Victoria might take what had been a collaborative effort to escape their pasts and give them an actual future. In the flickering firelight, she lifted her chin. “It matters to me. I have learned enough about what it is like to lose your pride. My father’s disgrace taught me some unfortunate lessons about self-reliance. I want to learn all of those tasks, and well enough that not only can I be useful, but if it was ever necessary, take care of myself.” “It won’t be necessary.” Cole said the four words with more force than he intended. “He’s right,” Jace chimed in tersely, tossing the stick in the fire. “We’ll take care of you.” “You don’t understand. I no longer want to be the pampered lady. It has brought me nothing but grief.” She hesitated, her face holding a poignant expression. “I want to be a part of it all, not just a…a burden. A dependent. You are all going to work the ranch together. Can’t I fit in somewhere?” Cole got a sense where she was going. Though he’d been the lucky one to walk her to the river, he’d wondered if it wouldn’t have been the same result if it was Robert or Jace who had been privileged to see to her safety. And her pleasure. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t bother him. He hadn’t ever really thought about whether he’d be jealous of sharing a woman, because he’d never cared

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enough about one single female to worry about it. Jace and Robert were both good men; the three of them very different, but like brothers. Though Cole was from an unconventional background himself, he thought he understood that first taste of true freedom she was experiencing. To go from critical eyes dissecting your every move to the oblivion of wide open spaces and complete lack of censure…surely if you were young, beautiful and passionate, a person might embrace the change in every way possible. He wouldn’t want her to be any other way. “Burden doesn’t apply,” Robert said gruffly for him. “Let me rephrase, then.” Victoria paused delicately and then said, “I want to belong with you all at Crescent Moon Ranch.” Cole gazed at her with such intensity he was sure the fire flared. “Sweetheart, you already do.” She hesitated. “One woman living with three men is unconventional.” “An English lady with three outlaws is even more out of place,” Robert said in his reasonable, calm way. “You don’t owe us anything.” What they had experienced earlier by the river hadn’t seemed like she was paying a debt, Cole thought, but more as if she had been a bird with clipped wings that could now fly free. Jace had been just plain born wild but both he and Robert had come from civilized backgrounds, and he understood that first intoxicating taste of liberation. He’d left Boston without a backward glance, but then again, he was born half Lakota. The spirits had called him and he had answered. They had also delivered Lady Victoria Mead to him under a bush in the Kansas wilderness. It meant something, for the spirits never acted without reason, or so his grandmother had told him, and at the moment he believed her.

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A prairie wind made their fire flicker. “This is meant to be,” the keening breeze whispered. “I owe you my life,” she said quietly, the light playing over her delicate face. “But that isn’t what I mean.” As they watched, she rose and went to where her bedroll had been laid out by the side of the camp protected by the closest copse of trees, and lay down, tugging the blanket up over her slender form.

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Chapter Seven

The arc of the valley below was lushly green, the glitter of a stream bordering one side, cottonwoods in ranks along the banks, the rest of it open meadow that climbed eventually in the far distance to the foothills, and beyond that, magnificent in the background, rose the mountains. She’d never seen anything like it in her life. Victoria reined in her horse at the top of the ridge they had just crested and sat there, in awe of the view, moved enough that tears stung her eyes and her throat tightened. This would be her new home. The ranch house was a tiny dot in the distance, the corrals and barns more significant than the house itself, the cluster of trees near the buildings indicating a source of water. “We own about as far as you can see,” Jace told her in a matter-of-fact drawl. “In the winter the pass closes up and it’s pretty isolated here. Nothing like what you’re used to.” “Good,” she said, and meant it, nudging her horse with her heel to head down the trail. He grinned and urged his mount, a sleek bay, alongside hers. “I’m revising my opinion of foreign bluebloods thanks to you, darlin’.” “For the better, I hope.” Her voice was dry. “Oh yeah.” Under the brim of his hat, his blue eyes were intent, his gaze steady. “I know what happened with you and Cole, but…” He hesitated, and then said quickly, “But I don’t care. I’m that damn in love with you.”

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Robbed of speech, Victoria could only stare at him, their horses side by side on the faint path through the scrub brush. Softly, he went on. “I don’t see any need to keep it to myself. It isn’t like Robert and Cole don’t know how I feel… We don’t have a lot of secrets between us. Riding the trail will do that.” After a moment, she said quietly, “I’m flattered.” “I’m not the only one,” he imparted in the same laconic tone, but there was nothing casual about how he looked at her. “Robert’s pretty sweet on you too. And Cole, hell, he won’t ever say it, but he’d walk through fire for you. We all would.” People she’d known her whole life repudiated her because of her father’s debts. It was a different world, and she hadn’t been dramatic earlier, she was glad to be free of the prejudices of her class. These men hadn’t known her all that long, but they had a loyalty that moved her. “What happened at the river wasn’t exactly planned.” She was determined to be as honest with Jace as he had been with her. “But it wasn’t an accident either.” “We know.” Of course they did. She wasn’t at all experienced, and she didn’t need to be told the three of them were not sexual novices. Victoria couldn’t help it, she blushed, well aware of Cole and Robert following behind them, the soft thud of the horses’ hooves a reminder of their presence. Helplessly, she gestured with her gloved hand. “I don’t know what to say.” “Who said you have to say anything?” Jace flashed a wicked smile, touched his spur to his horse and clattered down the steep descent into the valley, so at one with the animal he looked as if he were a part of it. An hour later they rode into the shaded courtyard of the Crescent Moon Ranch. The house itself, she saw, was made from peeled, weathered pine logs,

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the façade low and the building simple but sprawling, a wide porch across the front. The corral fences were in need of repair even to her inexperienced eye, and as they rode up, she noted the stone chimney had half fallen over on the roof. “Needs some work,” Cole commented as he slid from the saddle. “I expected it would.” “Structure is sound, though.” Robert dismounted and went to politely assist Victoria from the saddle. “And you can’t find a better place to run cattle.” He smiled at her, the slanting sun touching his chestnut hair and his hazel eyes warm. “Welcome home, my lady. What do you think of our little valley?” “Little?” She smiled back. “It’s about half the size of England as far as I can tell, and I think it is extraordinarily wild and beautiful.” “I am not sure about wild, but yes…beautiful.” His hands lingered at her waist, their gazes locked. “Very beautiful.” He didn’t mean the landscape. Victoria wasn’t sure how she might have responded, but she had learned that Robert was ever conscious of how others felt and he didn’t disappoint. Instead, he let her go and took the reins of her horse. “Don’t let the inside of the house shock you. We’ll get it fixed up nice in no time for you.” For you. How odd was it, she wondered as she walked up the steps to the porch, to be a commodity all her life, and to so suddenly find herself home. This was a strange country, yet she was comfortable here, even with the wildness of her surroundings, even with the questionable pasts of her companions. She knew they were good men, and that was enough. He was right, she discovered as she pushed open the door, the interior was less than ideal. Dusty, with only a few sticks of rickety furniture, the main room wasn’t appealing except for the huge hearth made of what looked like all kinds

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of smooth rocks, not at all like the brick fireplaces in England. The ceilings were higher also, and wide, dusty windows faced the vista of rangeland with the mountains in the background. There were bedrooms, she discovered down the hallway—three plain spaces with sparse furnishings. That was the extent of the house except for what looked like a kitchen on the other end, complete with an iron stove and low windows under a slanted roof. It wasn’t an elegant London town house. Neither was it a sprawling country mansion set amidst the lush greenery of Wiltshire like where she’d spent her childhood. That aside, she liked the overall homey feel of the space, and if it was rustic, she didn’t mind. Her former homes were lost forever, not just to the debts that had claimed them, but to bad memories. It was odd to realize it, but she’d hadn’t minded sleeping under the stars either, though a hot bath would be a boon, and she spied an overturned tub in the corner that might be just for that purpose. The courtyard, too, was charming, with stately trees and a small spring. There were even a few chickens pecking around, though she would not have the slightest idea what to do with one. A meal that didn’t consist of beans and bacon would be most welcome right now, but she wasn’t complaining. Fate had stepped in, and despite a few minor problems, she had been given a second chance at a new life. Most women, she thought as she wandered over to one of the dirty, streaked windows, were given one man. One lover. One hero. Her luck had finally turned. She’d been gifted with three.

They’d planned on eating dinner around the hearth, but the fallen chimney precluded a fire, and they had discovered it was full of birds’ nests, not to

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mention it was a warm night. As a result, they’d chosen the porch for their meal, and though it was just the same old trail fare, it tasted somehow better now that they were home. Home. That was a nice word. One Robert hadn’t been able to use in a long time. It had been his choice to leave Massachusetts, and he didn’t regret it, but as the years passed he’d thought more about the lack of permanence in his life. He wasn’t even thirty, but that meant nothing in this part of the country. Had they continued to ride unfettered, but also without purpose, he doubted any of them would ever reach that age. He bent and slashed another branch with his knife, making sure it was cut close. It had grown dark, and he’d been assigned the task of ensuring Victoria had a decent bed inside for a change. “Thank you.” He glanced up at the sound of the soft voice, and despite his desire for nonchalance every muscle in his body tightened. He nodded and resumed arranging the fragrant boughs cut from one of the tall pines at the edge of the meadow. “The mattress was infested with mice, I’m afraid,” he said. “The house has been deserted—except for the vermin who took advantage of not having human occupants—for well over two years. This should make a soft bed.” It was true. Before they’d heard by word of mouth the ranch was up for sale, the owner had packed up anything that could be carried and moved on. It was remote, and maybe too much for some people, but perfect for them. He picked up her bedroll, spread it out and then stood. “It smells like a forest,” Victoria said, her slight smile lighting her face. “I’ve gotten so used to sleeping outdoors, I am not sure I can have a roof over my head now.”

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“The closest town is a decent ways driving a wagon, but we’ll be getting supplies from there soon. We need things for the house, and you’ll get a real mattress.” “You all go to too much trouble on my behalf.” “No trouble at all.” “I disagree.” She was too close. Not by design—he was pretty sure if she was halfway across the territory she’d be too close—but it translated to being within reach as he straightened. He no longer trusted himself. Cole and Jace had gone out to the barns. It was a tacit agreement between them all that although the valley was isolated it wasn’t necessarily safe, and one of them needed to protect her at all times. There were all kinds of dangers out there, from renegades to wildlife to whatever the hell else might happen. “I’ll be right outside your doorway,” he told her, trying to ignore the urge to take her into his arms. “It’s a warm night. Jace and Cole are going to sleep outside. We need to clean up the rest of the house before it is really habitable.” It was true. They’d scrubbed the only bedroom that had a nice window overlooking the courtyard, but the house was still downright dirty everywhere else. They’d even cooked supper over an open fire outside. Victoria had bathed earlier, and she only wore Jace’s oversized shirt he’d given her the day they’d found her. It came down to about her knees, and the sight of her bare calves and ankles was distracting enough Robert had to consciously do his best not to look. Not that he did a very good job of it. For one thing, her silky hair was loose. Long, golden tresses that brushed her hips in a graceful fall. And then there was the matter of her exposed legs. He could only imagine running his fingers along that smooth, taut skin…

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“Outside the doorway?” She frowned, and her gaze was very direct. Could she see the growing bulge in his trousers? He hoped to hell not. Robert wanted her—they all wanted her—but he didn’t ever wish to make her feel uncomfortable with their unique arrangement. What he fantasized over, what he wanted so badly, needed to be freely given. If he wasn’t invited, he wasn’t going to suggest it himself. He had that much civilized upbringing left in him. “You are my nursemaid then.” Victoria made a face. “I have noticed, of course, one of you hovers by me at all times.” “This is dangerous country, my lady.” “I don’t think I’m a lady any longer,” she said dryly, but a smile quivered on her soft mouth. “What happened between me and Cole was certainly something no true lady would do.” “You are a true lady,” he argued, and meant it. He’d known scores of wellbred ladies back in Boston, and none of them had half her gracious charm. Or incomparable allure. A light sweat had broken out over his skin. It was going to be a long night, but he’d drawn the high card and so he got the first watch. This wasn’t Mayfair or Pall Mall. Even there she wouldn’t be without a chaperone. “I don’t wish to be a proper lady any longer,” Victoria said softly. “And since you are assigned as my protector, wouldn’t it be better done if you slept in the same bed?” What is the most shocking part of all of this? Victoria wondered. That her unusual circumstances allowed her to act upon her wanton impulses or that she had them in the first place?

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Robert stared at her as if he was wondering the same thing, but the unmistakable hunger in his hazel eyes told her he approved wholeheartedly. His body, not quite as tall as Cole’s but just as muscular with slim hips and wide shoulders, was tense. A wavy lock of chestnut hair hung over his brow in an endearingly boyish fall. And his lean hand shook just a little as he reached up to brush it away. “I’d be lying if I denied I was thinking about it,” he said finally, his voice unusually husky. The clink of his spurs as he took one step, bringing him close enough to touch, made a musical jingle. He smelled like fresh-cut pine with a slight hint of male. She might as well be honest. “I’ve been thinking about it too, and wondering how much of a harlot it makes me.” Robert gave a laugh that was flatteringly incredulous. “You are so far removed from a harlot that I can’t even begin to argue the difference. “ She wasn’t sure she agreed. That was the truth of it. She wanted all three of them, and they all wanted her. Put that way, it sounded simple, but society frowned on women who gave themselves freely to more than one man. Yet, she knew that back in London there were aristocratic women who routinely slept with a variety of lovers once they’d given their husbands that requisite heir, and it was an accepted practice. Surely it was no different to take several lovers in the wilds of the American West… Or maybe better, for she wasn’t breaking her wedding vows of fidelity. There would be no wedding in her future. She’d known that the day the scandal broke over her father’s debts.

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Robert reached out and touched her hand, his gaze holding hers. “I admit I want this, but only if you want it also. There’s no obligation, Victoria.” “Obligation was not what prompted my suggestion. It is an invitation, not an offer of payment.” He flinched, and she was instantly sorry she’d phrased it that way. Maybe she’d been too long on the defensive because of those hellish months in England before she’d left. Clearing her throat, she sought other words. “I’d like for you to join me.” “I’d like that as well.” She’d known he would be the gentleman. Of them all, he was least inclined to act on his impulses. And it was proven when he stepped forward and set his hand at her waist, then slowly lowered his head to kiss her. So different than Cole. Gentle, persuasive and tentative, as if he wanted to allow her to take over the pace rather than set it himself. Robert’s other hand cupped her cheek, and his tongue tentatively touched hers. It was different, but it was also…perfect. Victoria sank into his embrace, pliant and willing, relishing the hold of his arms. Robert kissed her and so close against him, she realized he was aroused, her experience with Cole leaving her unafraid. This wasn’t at all the same as what had happened by the river, but she wanted it—wanted him. He murmured something against her lips, and his hands went to the buttons on her shirt. She allowed him to slip it off her shoulders and his swift inhale was both flattering and sent a flutter to her stomach as he stared at her bared breasts. While she was not precisely experienced enough yet to not be a little embarrassed, his expression was so intense it made it easier. Her voice was unsteady. “Don’t expect me to know what to do. I’m not—”

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“Perfect? Yes, you are.” He swiftly unbuttoned his own shirt and pulled it off, then sat down in the one salvageable chair that had been brought into her room to tug off his boots. He rose and reached for her again. “Robert.” Her voice softened, for truly, she wondered that if they had met in a different place and a different time, maybe this would still be inevitable. Out of all those fashionable gentlemen vying for her attention, she knew she would have been drawn to this man with his calm air of intelligence and competence. “Victoria…I want you.” His mouth sought hers again, their lips met and as he eased her backwards onto the makeshift mattress, she didn’t resist as he adjusted himself on top of her. Quite the opposite. She wanted him too. The kiss was long, sweet at first, a gentle discovery that was mutual, his tongue teasing hers, his hands tangled in her hair, his weight balanced, the length of his rigid cock through the material of his pants hard against her thigh. Then it became more, not precisely urgent but hungrier, and when he lifted his head she was breathless, her arms around his neck, her nipples taut and tingling. “I’ve had dreams about this,” he whispered in her ear, kissing the hollow beneath. “Making love to you long and slow, touching and tasting. Let me show you.” His fingers explored her body with care, first skimming her shoulder, then going lower, cupping her breasts, the touch always light but still arousing, his mouth following the tingling trail of his long fingers, the softness of his hair brushing her sensitized skin. The air was redolent of the forest, and the branches he’d put under the blankets moved as their bodies shifted, the slight rustle mingling with the cadence of their quickened breathing.

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Victoria let her lashes drift down and allowed herself to just…feel. She’d known it would be different. Just as arousing, but not at all the same as Cole, which was somehow equally exciting. If that didn’t make her a harlot…but then again, she wasn’t sure it did. She loved Robert’s subtle sense of humor and consideration, and he was handsome and gallant and… He touched her intimately then, his exploring fingers finding the heat between her legs. One finger slipped inside her, making the muscles in her stomach tighten. “You’re already wet for me.” She didn’t know if she should be chagrined or not at that declaration, but the thought slipped away as he stood, unfastened his trousers and shucked them off. He was different from Cole and yet just as beautifully male. Less bronzed, leaner, but still hers. That was a startling thought. She’d never had anything of her own her entire life. Some physical possessions, but she’d found out that none of the pretty gowns or other things she took for granted really should have been hers, right down to the food on the table and the roof over her head. Maybe that was it. That the three of them belonged to her. No, that wasn’t quite right. Maybe it was that the four of them belonged together. Skillful fingertips skimmed her breasts, circling her nipples, and he held her gaze with each caress, as if he wanted her to be able to see into his very soul. “I’ve never met anyone like you.” He nuzzled her ear and then laughed on a low exhale. “Let me rephrase. I’ve met dozens of beautiful young ladies, as my father was a prominent businessman and my family has wealth, but none of them had half your courage or a tenth of your appeal, no matter their looks.” “I’ve never met anyone like you either.” She was both shy and yet completely sincere. “Or Jace or Cole. I…”

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“You don’t have to choose,” he said gently, kissing her again, stroking her skin and she loved the tilt of his mouth as he didn’t smile often enough. “Tonight you’re mine, and I couldn’t ask for more. Let me love you, Victoria.” They didn’t speak as he lowered himself over her and nudged her thighs apart. She gasped as he pushed the hard length of his cock inside her with delicious invasive pressure. “Robert.” “I’ll go slow.” He nuzzled her ear. “I want us both to remember this. It’s just the beginning.” He did control himself, she discovered, his movements deliberate, tantalizing as he slid backward and then joined their bodies again, his arms solid and supportive. The bed creaked, and she sighed in unison, the pleasure subtle and exquisite. It was different but just as exhilarating as that interlude with Cole. She learned different nuances as she moved her hips at his urging, his hands slipping beneath her body to cup her bottom and lift her into each thrust, their breathing growing quicker and quicker, his mouth finding hers at that explosive moment when the pleasure crested and spilled over. She shuddered, and his body stiffened, the pulse of his release vibrant as he spilled his seed deep inside of her. Afterward, sleepy and content, she curled against him. The last image she remembered was the drift of his fingers through her hair.

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Chapter Eight

He found he loved the evenings best. Since Cole was pretty sure it had been a long time since he’d loved anything at all, it was a startling revelation. To find he looked forward to riding back to the ranch, seeing the weathered exterior of the house bathed in the fading light, was enlightening. The place sure could use more repairs—they were concentrating on the fences at the moment and trying to round up as much stock as they could find—but it still looked beautiful to him. It gave him an actual sense of contentment. A revelation for a man with a price on his head, no real family and the itch to always move on. That itch seemed to be gone. “Somethin’ smells damn good.” Jace dismounted, his booted feet sending up a puff of dust from the courtyard. “Of course, I’d eat a dead skunk long about now. I’m half-starved.” Cole laughed, but he had to admit he was pretty hungry too. They’d worked a long day, but a good one. Most of the cattle left in the valley were pretty wild, so rounding them up took some skill and not a little effort, but they’d found a small herd that looked promising. Though a couple of young bulls had given them some trouble, it had been all in all a very productive day. “If you don’t mind, I’d just as soon that isn’t what’s for supper.” He slipped off his own horse and started to lead it towards the barn. “Robert’s a decent cook.”

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“Good thing one of us is.” Jace’s grin was good-natured, his spurs clinking musically as they walked along. “But I have to say that Tori’s learnin’ some. Those biscuits weren’t too bad last night.” “Those biscuits tasted like shit, but you’re right, not as bad as the last time, so that’s something. She sure is trying.” Cole lifted his brows. “You ate two just to impress her, but maybe to a man willing to eat a dead skunk, her biscuits aren’t too bad.” Jace held up a lean hand. “Hey, that’s just an expression from where I’m from.” “Glad I’m not from Texas then, because—” “You’re back.” They both glanced up and stopped dead. The subject of their conversation had come out onto the porch, dressed in her boyish garb, her hair shining redgold in the shimmer of the sunset. Then Victoria said three magical words. “I was worried.” When the hell was it last someone had worried about me? Cole pondered, couldn’t come up with an answer, and for a moment—brief but telling—he could swear his eyes stung. Ridiculous, but there it was. The power of a woman’s smile, the thought of her watching for their return… He’d spent so many years expecting to die and have a lonely grave somewhere that he wasn’t able to reply. It was Jace who said, “We found the herd. Not just a stray cow or two but enough head that we aren’t going to have buy a lot of stock to get the ranch going.” To Cole’s surprise, she understood the implications. Her smile was as radiant as the colors touching the mountains as the sun sank over the top. “How wonderful.” No, what was wonderful was the sight of her, waiting for them.

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His life had changed. Whether it was his mother’s gods or fate, he wasn’t sure, but it had irrevocably changed. For all of them.

It might be blessing or a curse, but it was his day at the ranch house. Jace didn’t mind—he’d be damned stupid if he did—but it was still a strain on his self-control and he wasn’t long on patience in the first place. So he said in a slow drawl, “You’re up early this mawnin’.” Victoria glanced up, her hands wet from the water she was using to splash on her face from the bucket, her expression startled…then it relaxed, and a natural smile surfaced. Hell, Jace thought, his gaze raking hungrily over her shapely body clad in those boyish clothes, she was so gorgeous it almost hurt him to look at her. Shining golden hair was fashioned into a loose braid, and her skin held a dewy smoothness that made him ache to touch it, to test the texture and put it to memory. And he would. Out of all of them, he was the least cultured, the least refined, and yet he could swear he understood her better than either one of his partners. She had guts, and he admired that attribute in anyone. Sure, Cole was as cool as a man could be, dead sure of himself, dangerous and hard, and Robert was more educated and sophisticated than either of them, but truthfully, Jace was pretty sure he connected with their English lady on a level that was entirely different. Damn his romantic soul, but he’d fallen for her deep the minute he’d laid eyes on her. Victoria was a lot more than just another pretty girl like the ones he’d met, dallied with and then forgotten. This wasn’t going to be the same, and

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it was a revelation that it didn’t bother him she’d given herself to both Cole and Robert… He was willing to wait for the right time. Funny that, when he was usually the impatient one, quick on the draw. But he’d learned impatience had a cost, and he’d paid plenty for his sins already. She was damn well worth holding on to his control for a little bit. A week. They’d already been here for seven days. The ranch house was now habitable, the kitchen scrubbed and the woodstove working, the rodents for the most part cleared out, and though after that first night with Robert she’d slept alone, one of them had been on guard the entire time. In a pragmatic sense, Jace had already decided, this was about survival. It was about lust—yes, he was damn certain of that—but there was a lot more to it. The outlaws and a proper English lady. It sounded like one of those outlandish books his mother had read back when they’d still had the ranch in Texas… His mother, who had taught him to respect women. To respect them, and ultimately, if it was the right time, to offer the protection of his name. But this wasn’t the right time. This was a remote valley in an unsettled territory, and the woman who even now was running a worn cloth over the slender column of her neck was not his exclusively. It didn’t matter—not to him. He knew how he felt, and whatever was between her and Cole, and her and Robert, he loved her. “Some sort of creature was howling last night.” She set the cloth aside. “I’m not sure what it was, but it bothered me enough that when I drifted back to sleep, I dreamt about it.” He slept with one eye open and both ears cocked, so he just grinned and admired how the mounds of her breasts pressed against the material of her shirt. “I think it was just an owl.”

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He’d heard it too, a good old-fashioned screech owl that sounded like a woman with a knife twisted in her innards when it let loose, and it had startled him too for a moment before he’d rolled back into his bedroll, laughing at himself for being so darned jumpy. “That isn’t possible.” Victoria frowned, her smooth brow creasing. “It was horrible. I almost got up to wake Cole but then it stopped and I wondered if I was dreaming.” “Not the easiest sound on the ears,” he agreed, quirking a brow. He liked the way an errant damp curl was now plastered against her graceful neck. “But the only thing in these parts that screams like that besides a screech owl is a mountain lion, and I promise you Cole would have been on his feet, his rifle in his hand, if he’d heard that one.” “Lion? Here?” “Not the kind you’re thinkin’ of. Around here they call them pumas. They don’t live in prides like the ones in Africa.” “Dangerous?” Her eyes had widened just a bit. “Not usually. People aren’t their favorite prey, but it has been known to happen.” He picked up his cup and drank the last dregs. “They are born predators, and almost all true hunters like it easy. If you were a newborn calf or a lamb and a cougar came across you, of course. It’s just a really big cat, the kind you no doubt had slinkin’ along the streets in London. Picture that and make it about twenty times bigger. But you’d take a lot of work, and he ain’t interested in that.” “I suppose that’s somewhat comforting.” Jace had to laugh softly over the caustic tone of her voice. “Jest the truth. It’s nature. That’s why the young, the sick and the old go first. When our cows start to calve, we’ll have trouble, no doubt, but I haven’t seen any tracks yet.”

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She moved to the cookstove, picked up the coffeepot and poured a cup as if she’d been doing that for herself all her life, which he knew for a fact she hadn’t. Her previous existence had been teas and servants and breakfast in bed, and how well she’d handled the change captivated him even more. Maybe that was the magnetic pull. He loved her, but he also liked her. “It’s good to know I am not considered old or sick, but I am not sure about being excluded from the category of young,” she said teasingly as she sat down across from him at the table. Then, with evident curiosity, she asked, “You have to be close to my age.” “I’m twenty-four,” he told her frankly, “but I’d swear I’m a hundred. I’ve ridden from Texas to Canada and back again at least twice, done a couple of things I’m not proud of, and I’m not gainsayin’ that if I rode into my hometown today I wouldn’t be arrested and tossed in the local jail on the spot. The way I look at it, I’m not all good, but no one is, and I’m sure as hell not as bad as a lot of men out there. Youth isn’t defined by years, but experience. I’d like to think that I’ve done the best I could. I never killed anybody that didn’t deserve it twofold, and I ain’t makin’ any apologies either. I’ve been in a few scrapes, sure, but never because I robbed someone or did deliberate harm. I’m not built that way. Trouble happens out here. Sometimes the only justice available is a man’s gun. I’ve used mine more than I’ve cared to, but then again, I wasn’t given a choice.” There. He’d come clean. He’d been meaning to for a while. Was she horrified? He’d worried a bit about that. Cole was no angel, and Robert was guilty mostly by association with the two of them, but of the three, Jace was probably the most reckless. There was no doubt Cole had a bigger price on his head, but Jace knew he was wanted also in Texas. He’d never been ashamed of it—never had felt the need to explain himself to anyone else.

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“I have no doubt,” she said quietly but with flattering conviction, “that you are telling me the truth. I admit the violence out here is a bit disconcerting, but then again, I come from England, where we seem to perpetually be at war. Killing is not endemic to this country. Mine has been involved in one bloodbath after another for centuries.” “Put that way it doesn’t sound so bad. Still, I hate it,” Jace said matter-offactly. “Never think I don’t. I’ll defend myself and what’s mine, but being just a bit faster keeps you alive. It’s not a skill to be proud of. I’m not just a gun-toting cowboy.” Her eyes were exactly the color of the bluebells he remembered from his mother’s garden. Pure, clear and lovely, her lashes long and a much darker shade than her hair, her face somber, slender fingers curled around the thick base of her cup. “I never thought you were.” “What do you think I am?” He thought he had a right to ask. This was going to be their lives. He and Cole and Robert hadn’t yet discussed it, but as far as he could tell there was an unspoken understanding. Three very different men, one woman, and a wilderness as vast as the sky… To a certain extent, they all needed each other. Sure, he could ride a grubline, work here and there and wander, but once he’d decided he wanted his own place, his land, his stamp on this country, he’d hitched himself to Robert and Cole, and Victoria seemed the perfect addition…a dream come true. “I think you’re…you.” She smiled at the inadequacy of the answer. “That isn’t well put, but—” “No,” he said with ragged conviction, “it’s put just right. Everything about you is right. I’m crazy about you… I’d…I’d die for you, but that ain’t no secret to any of us, I suppose.” He stood abruptly, because if he stayed a second longer he’d haul her into his arms and prove every word he’d just said, but she hadn’t

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invited him yet. “I gotta go feed the horses. You should be fine here alone for jest a few minutes.” There was no question she was following a path she’d never thought she’d take, but then again, how the devil had she ended up in the wilds of the Kansas Territory in the first place? Fate. She had to wonder. Perhaps she’d never been destined to be a proper wife and gracious hostess, arranging fetes and dinner parties for a husband who virtually ignored her presence in his life unless he needed her to appear in public on his arm or wanted an heir. Love was rarely the primary motivation in aristocratic marriages. Jace was out in the barn, and she’d sat and contemplated what to do once he’d stalked out, but the truth was, she needed to talk to him. Of the three, he was by far the most sensitive. It was amusing that it was true, but while Cole was intense and Robert thoughtful, she thought Jace was probably the most vulnerable under his careless, desperado exterior. He wanted her. She didn’t have any illusions, and she’d known that before she’d even lain with Cole, but that had been a spontaneous moment and had felt right at the time. She still didn’t regret it. How odd, when she had no doubt that Cole was probably the most guarded of the three of them, that she’d chosen him that day at the river. At the moment, though, she was thinking about Jace and his fervent declaration of devotion, and truthfully, she believed him. It had been a long time since someone had told her they loved her. Her mother maybe, before her illness took her. He was shoveling hay when she slipped through the doors, his sleeves rolled up to reveal brawny forearms, his lean body tense, and his head whipped up at

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once to register her presence even before the horses snorted and shifted in their stalls. As per his usual lack of affectation, he said bluntly, “I left you alone on purpose.” “I know.” Victoria skirted the bales of hay, not experienced enough to know precisely how to handle this situation. “But I don’t want to be alone.” “If you’re here, you’d better be serious.” His voice took on a lower tone, his movements stilling as he watched her approach, knuckles white as he gripped the pitchfork. “I won’t touch you unless you want it, but don’t torture me, Tori.” The nickname always startled her with its informality, but she liked the way he said it in that slow southern drawl. He was the only one who had decided to shorten her name in such a casual way. Both Cole and Robert called her Victoria, and Robert occasionally still used the even more formal address of Lady Victoria. “That is not my intention.” She smiled, stopping in front of him, noting how the breadth of his shoulders strained the material of his shirt. The barn smelled earthy, redolent of livestock and hay, not so different from what she remembered of her father’s country estate. Yet definitely an ocean wide and country away with Jace standing there, the pitchfork in his hand, his blue eyes intense. His blond hair was long enough it curled damply against his neck. “Say it plainly,” he said tersely. “I’m not going to guess at what you want.” “To lie with you,” she replied simply, because actually it wasn’t complicated or catastrophic, but more a rite of passage that needed to be for both of them. At the river with Cole had been primal, and in the cabin with Robert had felt right and she didn’t regret it either, but this wasn’t impulsive, it was more like the romantic ideal she had of what it was like to desire and be desired. It was empowering to understand that as a woman, she could want him freely, and at the same time offer what he wanted so obviously. “I…” he said, but the pitchfork fell and he swallowed hard. “I…”

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Victoria was not quite the innocent miss she’d been when the wagon train was attacked. She stepped forward and began to unbutton her blouse, each fastening slowly slipping loose, his gaze riveted on the movement of her fingers. “Gawd,” he said in hoarse irreverence as she slipped it off. His mouth coming down hard over hers was not a surprise. There had never been a doubt that he would be an impetuous lover and when he hauled her up against his hard body, Victoria gasped, but it was part in laughter and part in capitulation. Jace responded by circling his arm around her waist and pulling her closer so that she wasn’t sure quite how she would be able to breathe, compounded by how he pressed her against the wall as he kissed her. And kissed her. Deeply. As if he were staking a claim, his mouth possessive and his hands hard against her hips. Jace didn’t give quarter, but she hadn’t expected it either, and Victoria slid her arms around his neck and surrendered. This was exactly why she’d followed him and offered herself. “All I do is think of this,” he said against her mouth, his long fingers parting her shirt. “Touching you, having you. Ah…darlin’.” The fragrance of the hay was sweet, vibrant, and when he cupped her breast she arched at the sensation, his touch sending tingles along every nerve-ending, her nipples instantly tightening. A callused thumb circled the taut peak, and she sighed, closing her eyes. Jace bent his head. “Tori…” The brush of his hair against her skin was sensuous and his mouth hot against her nipple. The swirl of his tongue was enough to make her moan, her hands sliding to his shoulders as he suckled her. “Oh.”

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“I’m trying to not be too eager,” he apologized, nuzzling the underside of her breast, “but I’ve damn near died for wanting this…wanting you. This might be short and sweet, but I’ve been on the edge for weeks.” She was a little shaken, she had to admit, by the feverish level of his desire. When he unfastened her pants and stripped them off she raised her hips to help him and then watched as he took off his clothing, tossing it carelessly aside, his hungry gaze scouring her bared body. There was no question he was both virile and impressive, his cock swollen in arousal, his lean, nude body pinning hers with eagerness, his mouth nuzzling the hollow under her ear as he parted her legs with his knees. He entered her with a swift thrust, the wall hard at her back, his hands lifting her into the penetration. “This is the closest I’ll ever come to heaven,” he said, his breath hot against her ear. “You’re so damn tight around me.” His hand moved to the tie on her braid and tugged it free, and he wove his fingers through the loosened strands of her hair, his arms supportive but her back still to the wall. Jace kissed her throat. “I need to move.” And he did. Not slowly. He wasn’t that way; she’d never even expected it. But fast, with a quick withdrawal and then an impetuous thrust, the rhythm swift, her body adjusting to this unknown position, the friction surprisingly arousing even though she’d always imagined a woman was supposed be the submissive one on the bottom, the man poised above her. Standing up, though her feet weren’t even touching the floor, his hold the only thing supporting her, wasn’t how she imagined a man and a woman coupled. At least not in the polite world, but she wasn’t there any longer, was she?

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If those prim society matrons could see her now. Lady Victoria, her hair spilling free, naked in the morning in a barn, letting a handsome young American cowboy have his wicked way with her… They might just be envious. Desire turned into an entity she couldn’t escape, his scent and feel above and in her distracting enough she didn’t care about the damaged roof of the barn showing bits of the sky, or the scent of the hay, or the soft sounds of the horses moving in their stalls in the background. What she did care about was the warm feel of Jace holding her and the exhale of breath into her ear. “Perfect,” he muttered thickly, “just like I imagined, and damn me to hell, I’ve imagined this a lot of times.” Maybe they were both damned to hell because she liked it too. Liked the feel of taut muscles under her fingertips, the intense, heavy-lidded look in his eyes as he made love to her, his stare captivating and at once solemn, and yet holding that hint of vulnerability that so intrigued her. Why is that, she wondered, lifting into his next inward glide, because it wasn’t at all what she was attracted to about Robert or Cole. But now, she found, drowning in the sensations of pleasure and possession, she didn’t even want to think about them. It was just him, and his turbulent kiss as he took her mouth again, the push of his hips as he joined their bodies feverishly, driving himself so deep…deep… Now that she understood how to reach for the sun, it burst upon her, like a prairie sunrise, colorful and glorious, the breath leaving her lungs as she tightened her arms and clung to him in the burst of light. The moment was heated, extraordinary, especially when he stiffened and dropped his head, exhaling against her temple in a low, telling groan of release.

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“I told myself,” he said with lazy grin as he finally lifted his head, their bodies joined in the aftermath, both of them damp and breathless, “the waiting was worth it. That’s why it didn’t kill me when you were with Cole and Robert. I knew it would be like this.” “Like what?” Victoria’s smile was tremulous. “That it would change my life,” he answered. “You changed mine too,” she answered, touching his taut cheek.

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Chapter Nine

“Our list is getting fairly long.” Robert sat at the freshly scrubbed table. “We’re going to need two wagons, at least.” “All the basic staples,” Jace agreed pragmatically. “Flour, sugar, coffee, salt in bulk, and cotton for new curtains, gingham, bedding, tack, oats, rope, soap, nails, wire for the fences—” Cole broke in. “We don’t have to do it all in this first trip. Let’s get the essentials and not draw attention to ourselves. If we spend too much at once, people will talk, maybe even get curious about us.” The quick way Victoria glanced up wasn’t lost on him. They had yet to really discuss why he was wanted by the law, much less how he got the money for the ranch and supplies. Still, it was going to need to be addressed down the line. She had a quick intellect underneath that glorious crown of golden hair, and she knew full well this was not simple. “I don’t need anything,” she said quietly. “I don’t mind the clothes I wear now at all.” Hell. Cole said more roughly than he intended, “We can’t give you silk and satin, but you must be tired of dressing like a boy.” “I had not really considered it,” she said in her elegant way, as if instead of a rough, raw-hewn plank of wood set on two crossed logs slung together, she was at a polished table and a footman hovered to pour her some claret. Victoria reached to pick up a battered tin cup. “It is certainly better than the torn

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nightdress you found me in. I was half-naked, and I am still trying to imagine what might have happened to me if you hadn’t come along.” That was a valid point, but he inherently disliked the idea of her gratitude, even though they’d been over this ground before. “Darlin’—” Jace started to say, pushing his hat back on his head, his blond hair in disarray. “My clothes are fine.” The edge to her tone and terseness of the interruption held a hint of defensiveness. It made them all think before they said anything, a mutual wariness that didn’t need to be stated out loud giving them pause. Cole thought he understood too. She wasn’t a kept woman and didn’t want to be. That was fine with him, he didn’t like being indebted to anyone either, and pride was important. When a man—or a woman—lost that, they tended to drift away in his experience. Too much acceptance wasn’t a good thing—he’d seen more than one man fall because of that, but once a person started to not care any longer, the world could be pretty cruel. So it was nice to see Victoria lift her chin and look at them each, one by one. Her hair was caught neatly back by a leather thong he’d given her, her light blue blouse already faded from multiple washings, but he had to admit that from an entirely male perspective, he’d love to see her in a dress, with ribbons in her hair and a bonnet to shade that perfect complexion. However, she was beautiful no matter what. Robert was a hell of a lot better than he and Jace at this sort of situation. He said calmly, “I think we all need some new clothes. It isn’t like we are going to go to town very often. I’ve got shirts, pants, boots, and yes, material for a few dresses on my list. What else do we need?”

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It looked like Victoria was going to continue to argue, so Cole said abruptly, “Ammunition. Feed for the horses in case the hay doesn’t come in like we think it will. Soap, thread. A couple of new bridles.” “I don’t care so much about the dresses, but if it isn’t asking too much, paper,” she said unexpectedly. “I’d like to write.” That startled him, since she’d made it clear her family and friends in England were no longer a part of her life. Cole asked, “To who?” He almost kept the edge of jealousy out of his voice but didn’t succeed entirely because Jace shot him a speculative glance and his face took on a grim cast as well. Robert was the only one who seemed unperturbed. “Of course we’ll buy you paper. Envelopes as well?” “No.” Victoria shook her head. “Not to someone, but about…this.” All three of them looked at her, not quite sure what she meant. “A journal,” she explained quietly. “I wouldn’t mind a means to set down my thoughts.” Set down her thoughts? As someone who had spent the past few years of his adult life evading any trace of his actual existence, Cole found it a bit hard to comprehend, but then again, he was not cast on foreign shores either. Everyone dealt with adversity their own way. His initial impulse was to ask for her to not mention his name. He wasn’t even sure why he’d told her the truth from the very beginning. Cole Thune was dead to a lot of people, and resurrecting that notorious label was the last thing he wanted. But, on a second consideration, whatever made her happy was fine with him. He was adjusting to that. In his entire life he hadn’t, to his recollection, wanted to make another person happy. He’d cared about others, of course. His mother before her death. His father too, though they’d been more strangers than

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anything else. Jace and Robert were like the brothers he’d never had, and he trusted them enough they shared this ranch…and a bit more than that now, though none of them had ever anticipated this situation. “Thoughts about us?” he asked bluntly. “Yes.” Victoria blushed, a slow tinge to her perfect skin, but she didn’t look away. “I suppose it must seem odd to you, but I am used to having women to talk to on a regular basis. Not that we always discussed personal matters, but it was nice to simply chat. That does not seem to be a choice here, so a journal is a logical substitute.” It was true, Cole realized in amusement, none of them was interested in chatting. They got up, went out on the ranch and worked, and when they came in, they ate dinner and occasionally Jace played his guitar by the fire, usually Spanish tunes he’d learned from a few vaqueros he’d encountered on the trail. It was an uncomplicated life in many ways. Until her. Victoria was not one of them—used to, and content in, a solitary life. Each one of them had experienced the pleasure of her body and the joy of her exhaled breath in his ear, the sensuous glide of her hands across his back, but that was not all there was to her. She was still a refined English lady used to society and fine things, and if possible, he would give her anything she asked for… Damnation, Cole thought with sardonic amusement, I sound like a lovesick cowboy. Maybe he was a lovesick cowboy. That he hadn’t even thought about it happening to him didn’t make it impossible. He’d liked women before, hell he liked women. But it really hadn’t been like this, and if he had to call their hand, he knew Jace and Robert would agree with him.

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“Doesn’t seem odd at all,” he said with what he hoped was evident sincerity even if his voice was a little thick. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

It was ironic to think that back in London, with all the whys and wherefores of proper behavior firmly in place, she’d have to choose, though it stretched the limits of her imagination to think of Jace wearing a cravat. Or Cole executing a waltz on a ballroom floor. Robert might be able to pass for a gentleman if the serviceable gun strapped to his hip was taken away and polished Hessians substituted for his well-worn boots, but the other two—no. What did it matter? Refinement had no value when it came to survival in a place this wild. As she watched the two horses and their riders top the ridge, she sensed Cole behind her. Not because she could hear him; he habitually wore doeskin leggings and moccasins and moved so silently that it was impossible to know he was coming, but some sort of instinctive reaction alerted her to his presence on the porch. Victoria turned and smiled, but it might have been a little tremulous. “How long will they be gone?” “Five days. They’ll make good time, I’d guess, to get back here as soon as possible. The ride over will be a lot faster than the drive back with the wagons.” And telling enough, he’d been the one to stay behind. It was a lesson in restraint to not ask him the details of what had happened, and not for the first time. She didn’t believe he’d ever murdered anyone. Not for one moment. She said neutrally, “Jace told me he was wanted too. Why is it he isn’t worried about going into town?” “He has a different story.”

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“I see.” She lifted the heavy hair off her neck. “We all have a story. Whenever you want to tell me yours, I would like to hear it. You have heard mine and of my disgrace, such as it is.” Hatless, looking at her with inscrutable dark eyes, his sleek hair loose around his shoulders, Cole just stood there and leaned one hip against the porch rail until he murmured, “In your story, you are blameless, and in mine…let’s just say it isn’t the same.” ”You’d never hurt anyone on purpose.” She could say it with conviction. “Without cause, no,” he corrected softly, “but I’m sorry, on purpose, yes.” That took a moment, but she understood after her recent experiences what he was saying. Self-defense was a necessity here, be it animal or man. Victoria nodded. “When you had to.” “Only then,” he agreed, his expression inscrutable. “I’ll give you that. I don’t like violence if it can be helped.” “I never doubted that.” “But I would think you would.” “Doubt you?” Abruptly he moved away down the porch, his long-legged stride as noiseless as ever but his stance radiating tension as he stopped and half-turned away. “You have no reason not to doubt me.” Victoria disagreed. “Cole, I have trusted you from the beginning…since the first moment I opened my eyes to find you looming over me.” “You were scared half to death,” he argued. “I was startled and didn’t know where I was and you are rather…large,” she admitted, watching as he stared over the valley to where the mountains thrust up against the sky, the ridges darkly lined with pines and the soft green shimmer of aspen leaves.

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“Thanks.” He turned back, a small, wicked smile touching his mouth. “No man objects to hearing that.” She couldn’t help it, she laughed, though she could feel a blush suffuse her neck and creep into her cheeks at the clear sexual innuendo. “I didn’t mean necessarily in that way.” “No? Maybe I need to refresh your memory later.” They would be alone now for most of the week, and she’d assumed all along he’d share her bed, but that wasn’t the discussion at hand. Maybe it was best to just ask outright. “What have they accused you of doing?” Cole gazed at her directly, brawny arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t get it wrong, Victoria. It’s not an accusation. I did it, all right. I killed a man in a place called Little Rock. It would have gone better for me if the witnesses didn’t hate Indians, but the truth is, he needed killing and I took care of it. I’m actually accused of killing two men, but that isn’t true.” Even as she opened her mouth to ask why, he shook his head, his ebony hair brushing his shoulders. “I’m not going to say more. You say you trust me. Prove it by taking my word that what happened was because he deserved it. There are some things I’d just prefer you don’t know. Not because I am ashamed of anything, but because the burden is mine, not yours.” She did believe him. It was in the set of his jaw and the uncompromising look in his dark eyes. “I won’t press you then,” she said quietly. “But how bad is it?” “Fifteen thousand dollars, dead or alive,” he told her frankly. “Or that was it the last I knew.” The amount was a bit shocking. It took a moment but she said, “I suppose I understand now why you aren’t anxious to be recognized.”

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“I could have chosen to not come here, but I figure if I lay low, maybe no one will bother me. I’ve friends in these parts, so they know I’m wanted, but not everyone believes that I deserve that price on my head. I fell in love with this valley and with the ranch. Life is too short to just give in to fear. I don’t believe in it. I wanted this place, and my father left me some money…so I took a chance. Sure, someone might turn me for the reward, but then again, that might happen anywhere.” “Your family—” “My mother’s people know I’m still alive.” His voice was curt. “My father was a lawyer. His partner helped me buy this place under another name, which isn’t a problem since I’m not legitimate anyway. It’s all nice and legal. This ranch is my new life, and I want it.” His voice dropped in timbre. “I glad you’ll be a part of it too. In case you didn’t notice, all three of us agree pretty strongly that finding you after that massacre was like the spirits smiled on us.” The comment was so at odds with her traditional upbringing that she had to laugh, lifting her face to the breeze. Perhaps tradition had its place, but it wasn’t here, not with the magnificence of the landscape surrounding them, the glory of the rugged peaks in the distance daunting but not nearly as much as his rangy presence. She countered, “Or maybe they smiled on me.” “Glad you look at it that way.” “How else could I?” Victoria hesitated and then decided she wasn’t ashamed to admit she was happier now than she’d been in a long time. “I love England. It’s my home, the estate where I grew up steeped in the history of my family, and the idyllic green of the countryside I will always remember. But I also recall London and the noxious smells, the incessant noise and of course, the horrible whispers and disdain once it was known my father was bankrupt and every bit of property he owned was forfeit.” She shrugged, but it took some effort to feign

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nonchalance as the memories were still very painful. “Supposed gentlemen offered me something quite different from marriage and a place in society, once they knew I was vulnerable and alone.” “I’ve met those sorts of gentlemen,” Cole responded, shifting his weight just a little, his voice brittle. “It seems Boston isn’t all that different from London. Those bastards.” “It was humiliating,” she admitted, inhaling a deep breath of clean, crisp air, remembering the despair but also the resulting resolve that had changed her life. “Then again, it drove me to not stay in England. There was nothing for me there any longer except a sort of servitude I can’t even imagine.” “Any man would be a fool to not offer you the world.” “They offered me the world as they know it,” she replied without hiding the edge of bitterness in her tone, looking past him to the vast blue sky. “Why pay the ultimate price of bachelorhood when you might get what you wish for at a much less telling cost?” “Only they didn’t get anything from you—instead you sailed away. Doesn’t surprise me at all. Courage comes in different forms, and you have a lot of grit under that delicate exterior.” The compliment warmed her more than the brilliant sunshine. He went on quietly, “I can understand the wishing to have you. Jace and Robert and I have been guilty of that too, but not the dishonor of the insult. That’s not what we are offering here. Not a one of us would have touched you unless you gave it freely. It isn’t like that between us.” It was the second time that day he’d made such a sweeping comment, and she wasn’t quite sure what to say. Cole, of the three of them, was least likely to talk about his feelings.

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“If I didn’t think that,” she responded with as much dignity as possible, “I would never have invited you to join me in the river.” The light breeze stirred her hair, sending a tendril across her cheek, the scent of the wind spicy with sage and a hint of smoke from the fire they’d made to cook breakfast. Cole nodded. “We’d better go saddle up. I’m going to ride up to the north pasture and see if there are any of the cattle the previous owner swore he had that strayed up there, and while we might be decent men, there’s some in this world who aren’t. You’re coming with me. Pack light, but we’ll most likely have to camp tonight.”

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Chapter Ten

“This is more wide open than I expected,” Jace murmured, riding next to Robert with his usual easy skill, his blue eyes narrowed. “Much more,” Robert had to agree, guiding his own mount down the dusty street. Rio Verde was bustling, the main thoroughfare crowded as dusk closed in, and Robert took in the saloons and stores with a wary eye. He saw the hotel right away, and he and Jace nudged their mounts that direction since they needed a room. Their shopping could be done in the morning, and hopefully they’d be back on the road not long after. Two days out from the ranch and he was already missing the quiet splendor of the valley. And more than that. The rundown hacienda with the shaded courtyard already felt a lot more like home than Boston ever had, and a great deal of that had to do with Victoria. This trip was necessary though. They were going to buy enough supplies to get the ranch set for the next few months and get back to the Crescent Moon as soon as possible. Home was a nice concept after so many years. Boston had fit for only long enough for him to realize he really wasn’t interested in the superficial culture of the wealthy families that were the reigning beau monde. He’d never been sure why it hadn’t felt right, but it just hadn’t, despite his family’s elevated status in society. In essence, he was probably as blue-blooded as Lady Victoria Mead by

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the standard of American society, even if the provenance of his heritage was not linked to royalty and exalted titles. But none of that mattered here. He was just another cowpoke watching a line of horses trot by, their riders coated in dust, heading for one of the local saloons. For himself, he was much more interested in a hot meal and place to stable their horses and purchase the wagons they needed. “Good thing Cole didn’t come along.” Robert glanced over. “Rather be him than us, but I agree. His attempt to be inconspicuous never works, and keep in mind, you don’t do all that well at it either. Just at a glance a person can tell you’re from Texas. Keep it quiet, cowboy, and that’s not just advice, but a suggestion that might keep us both alive.” “You insinuatin’ I’m a hothead?” Jace drawled, a soft laugh in his voice as they slid off their horses in front of the hotel. “If so, I deny it. I get a mite riled when I need to, but otherwise I’m pretty much like jest about anyone else.” “Only about four times quicker on the draw,” Robert said dryly as he secured his horse and nodded at the stable boy. “I’m just here to remind you that a demonstration of your skill would not be a good way to start this trip. We want to lie low, remember?” In response, Jace shot him a look that was surprisingly sober. Usually, when they got to a town, he was a bit on the wild side, especially with money in his pocket and ready women available. “Hell yes, I remember,” he said curtly and stalked toward the wooden sidewalk in a melodic clink of spurs. “Do you think I’d disappoint her?” Robert grinned. He couldn’t help it. Apparently love was a more powerful force than redeye whiskey or easy women, and it was actually a blessing. “If you got tossed in the local jail, you might. Does this mean I don’t have to ride herd on you all evening?”

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Jace growled out with his usually flippancy, “Fuck off.” Robert laughed, not at the sentiment but at the way it was expressed. He understood; this wasn’t a pleasure trip, life had changed, and as they changed with it, adjustments were being made. “Let’s go to the livery stable after we get a room and ask about buying two wagons.” Jace driving a wagon loaded with dry goods and cloth for making curtains and other household items was a sight different from his usual wild persona, but Robert welcomed the twinge of amusement. He’d always been pretty sure, of the three of them, that with his reckless disregard for his personal safety, Jace would be the one most likely to get himself killed. “I agree. Then let’s find a hot meal.” Jace pushed his hat back on his head and surveyed the street with narrowed eyes. “That’ll suit me jest fine.” He’d just as soon sleep on the hard ground under the open sky anyway, so any bed would do. Jace was up by daybreak, restless, and donned his clothes, boots and hat after splashing water on his face, deciding not to shave before leaving the hotel. He wasn’t really notorious, but he was still wanted, and he’d rather stack the deck in his favor and keep a slightly disheveled appearance. Cole was familiar with these parts, but maybe it was time to acquaint himself better with the town. A morning reconnoiter found it sleepy as the sun came up, the streets dead, but the livery was full, like the night before, and he wondered, because a few casual questions at the dinner table the night before had revealed no one was moving cattle through at the moment. He had breakfast in the hotel lobby, the waitress a young woman with fair hair and a nice smile, and in the past he might have been tempted to at least flirt a little…but not now. He finished, left her a nice tip and got down to business.

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“Howdy.” A young man glanced up at the sound of his soft step into the general store. “Can I help you, sir?” Jace dug into his pocket. “It’s early, I know, but I have a list about a mile long. Can we get started?” The clerk nodded. “Sure.” That was where Robert found him an hour later, piling supplies into the wagon. Coffee, flour, sugar, the gingham for curtains, two new pitchforks, barbed wire, salt, nails… Robert lost no time but started to pitch in and help load. Several hours later they had two fully laden wagons, had paid the bill with cash, and all would have been well if Jace hadn’t stepped out onto the wooden sidewalk and straight into the path of one of the men he hated most in this world. “Thought that was you,” Frank Saxon said, coming to a halt just about a foot away. “You never have been one to keep it low, Vance.” On the contrary, he and Robert had kept to themselves, which made him damned suspicious that Frank might have been on the lookout for them. So much for Cole’s determination to shake off his past. Still it was much better to run into just Frank than any of the rest of the Saxon gang. While Lawrence Saxon, his infamous older brother, had a reputation for ruthlessness and an indifference to the law, Frank was definitely the weakest of the bunch. “Damn, how’d I get so lucky as to run right into an old friend like you, Frank?” he drawled with evident sarcasm. It would have been better if he wasn’t holding an armful of supplies. He contemplated dropping it all, but face to face Frank wasn’t all that good. Jace still calculated he could dump the stuff and outdraw a weak drunk like the red-eyed man before him. “What the hell are you doing here in Rio Verde?”

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“What’dya think? Lawrence hasn’t forgotten Thune killin’ Samuel and Zeke. We’ve been one step behind you all this way since we ran into you in Kansas City.” “I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Jace murmured, letting everything slide down to spill on the sidewalk in an untidy mess, because he really needed his hands free, “but you have it all wrong, as usual. Samuel killed Zeke. Cole just gunned him down when Samuel drew on him.” “So he says.” Jace shrugged. “He doesn’t lie.” “He’s a damned Injun.” “You got a point here, Frank, or are we squaring off? I’m game, by the way.” “I could.” “Then why are you waiting?” Jace turned slightly for the best advantage. He’d done this before—sleepy town, dusty street, an opponent who wouldn’t look him in the eye. He’d done it before with Frank. This wasn’t the first time they’d been in this situation; where the other man was thinking about drawing and thinking about it hard. Jace should have killed him back in Kansas City then he wouldn’t have to do it here, drawing attention to them, the wagons full of supplies, maybe bringing trouble back to the ranch. Saxon let his hand rest on his hip—he’d lose if he tried to draw that way. Jace knew he’d lose anyway—and then, in the end, Frank shook his head, spat on the sidewalk, narrowly missing the supplies, and turned away. Jace couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or just disgusted. “Yellowbelly,” he muttered and started to pick up the packages. “I didn’t expect more, but then again, I hoped for at least a real fight.”

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Kate Watterson

Robert bent and handed the supplies up to him. “The cowards are the dangerous ones. Watch my back. I wouldn’t turn it on Frank if you aren’t paying attention.” “Oh, I’m watchin’ him.” Jace moodily contemplated the retreating man. “Trouble is, he knows I have scruples. That’s the damn last thing any man should have out heah in this country.” “Frank wouldn’t even recognize the word.” Robert hefted a roll of wire on his shoulder. “Let’s move along. The Saxons have followed us—followed Cole— and I never doubted it would happen, but the stakes are higher now. There’s going to be a fight, Jace, let’s face it. But at least we know they’re here.” The stakes were higher. Victoria was now in danger. Jace could have sworn he didn’t have a nerve in his body, but he suddenly felt slightly sick. “She didn’t want it, but I bought her one of those dresses. It’s blue, like her eyes, and looked about her size, and I know she can’t sew… So I did it anyway…Jesus.” No need to point out that in a town the size of Rio Verde the purchase wouldn’t go without remark, and he couldn’t take it back now. Frank and Lawrence would understand there was a woman living with them. It was a mistake, but it was made, and they needed to move along. Victoria was a complication that could become combustible. Robert said grimly, “The faster we finish loading the wagons and get out of here, the better.”

The stars were perfect, clear and glittering in a night sky as vast as the prairie, as high as the mountains, as deep as the ocean… At that point Victoria ran out of poetic descriptions as she took a deep breath of the cool crisp air and slowly released it. “I like it here,” she said spontaneously. “No. I love it here.”

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As if in answer, a lonely howl came from somewhere behind the tree line and Cole laughed softly. “I think el lobo heard you, but he doesn’t agree. He sounds hungry. I doubt he’s alone either. Have I ever described to you how a pack of wolves relay a deer, taking turns chasing it until their prey tires? It’s like watching a ballet, orchestrated and rehearsed, their timing perfect. The intention is deadly but beautiful to watch in a way, even when they go in for the kill. Survival at its finest, if you ask me. They cull the weak and the old, and when you think about it, the deer are better off. Only the strong ones breed.” “That’s what Jace told me.” “He was right.” There was a moment when the fire just crackled. “Have you ever been to the ballet?” He was reticent enough about his past, she’d wondered. “Yes.” The shuttered look on his face precluded delving any deeper, and all things considered, she found that one of the freedoms she now enjoyed was that the past didn’t matter. He was well-educated obviously, and both he and Robert came from good families, but none of that was relevant to their current circumstances. “Oh yeah, he’s hungry all right,” he murmured as the wolf howled again, “maybe he’s caught our scent. Maybe you’d better stay close to me.” The isolated valley echoed the melancholy sound, but she knew him well enough now that she understood when Cole was teasing her. “No doubt he has,” she said with what she hoped was utter serenity. “But such intelligent animals surely rarely hunt something bigger that possesses weapons and fire, so I am going to guess our wolf out there, hungry or not, won’t decide we are the appropriate target for his evening meal.”

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105

Kate Watterson

She didn’t miss the hint of a hovering smile as he ducked his head and poked at the fire with a long stick. Behind him, the aspens waved in a graceful sway, the leaves whispering in a hushed hum. “Maybe so,” he drawled slowly. “Jace talks too much.” They were in a small ring of trees, the hollow sheltered but not far off the range where they’d been searching out cattle all day. She’d taken some measure of satisfaction thinking about how horrified the stuffy matrons back in London would be if they saw her astride a horse, nudging calves into line, though she was a novice at best, and if it wasn’t for her trained mount, she would have been hopeless in her quest to help. But today was the first time she’d felt actually useful and she had to admit she reveled in it. She wasn’t good at herding cattle, but she could ride, and though she couldn’t bake a biscuit that didn’t taste like a cow patty—a term she’d heard Jace use—she could be useful. “Are you pleased with the amount of cows we found?” She set aside her tin plate, reaching for her coffee, kept in place by her knees. “Cattle,” he corrected, his fine mouth quirking in open amusement. “More than I thought.” Cole watched her across the fire, his predatory gaze not a mystery. “I’m pleased.” The day by the river, she’d invited. Tonight, she had a feeling he was going to take the offensive. Holding her own with a man like Cole Thune wasn’t going to be easy, but then again, there were no rules here—not when she knew absolutely that there wasn’t another person for miles and miles, and even if there had been, Cole was unlikely to care one way or another. Luckily, she didn’t care either. She was as safe as she could be in this wild place, even if he was looking at her like that hungry wolf somewhere in the darkness. A palpable tension hung between them suddenly, though he’d been

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nothing but solicitous all day, and his manner diffident and detached as he’d efficiently managed both the task of finding the stray herd and keeping an eye on her. She had no illusions he could have accomplished twice as much had he not had to be so vigilant in his guardianship, but she’d done her best to obey his instructions. It was a bit amusing, but she was beginning to realize that cowboys separated work and play in a very efficient fashion. The day was quite over. At the moment, she undoubtedly still needed protection, but he was the source of danger. A rather delicious danger, at that. One sinewy hand tossed another hunk of wood on the fire and the flames cracked up. He said with deceptive casualness, “I only brought one bedroll. We’ll have to share.” “That’s not exactly a subtle ploy, Mr. Thune.” Victoria didn’t even bother to hide the laughter in her voice. “Do you object, Lady Victoria?” His dark eyes were direct, but his voice lowered into a telling husky tone. A small thrill went through her, tumultuous and unruly. The wild setting maybe didn’t help, but she didn’t object at all. Slowly she shook her head. “Then come here.” Maybe if she’d wanted to, she could have refused. Maybe. When Cole gave orders it wasn’t in a tone that offered flexibility. But she didn’t wish to refuse him, to deny either of them what she knew was about to happen. She stood, the slight soreness in her thighs and bottom reminding her she hadn’t ridden in a week but had been on a horse all day. The flickering firelight threw shadows against his face, giving a gleam to his sleek, dark hair, making the circles of trees in their private glen a shadowy background.

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He deftly shook out the roll of blankets, the clear sky above vivid with stars, negating the need for more shelter because it was unlikely to rain, and he sat down to unlace his leggings, his gaze intent as she circled the fire and approached. “Your hair,” he ordered, but it wasn’t autocratic as much as a hoarse request, and Victoria obediently undid the thong securing her long braid and ran her fingers through the loosened strands, the breeze whispering past. He stood again, and his hands went to her shoulders, their eyes meeting before he tugged her closer, the movement temperate for a man who usually was decisive and impatient, his head lowering before he kissed her gently. It wasn’t exactly what she expected. She wasn’t a virgin any longer, he’d seen to that on the trail, and she knew he desired her not just from the tension in his tall body but the way he’d been looking at her all evening. Yet his mouth feathered against hers at first, their lips clinging sweetly, and his hands drifted over her back in a light touch before settling at her waist. Cole murmured against her mouth, “I want this to be slow.” She wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but as he held her close, the unmistakable state of his aroused body hardly supported his declaration. “We are very alone,” she whispered back, tasting the slight tang of the whiskey he’d drunk after their dinner. “Exactly. No need to hurry, no rush.” His lashes drifted downward as he claimed her mouth again in a sensuous kiss, and his hands moved to her breasts, cupping them briefly through the fabric of her shirt before going to the buttons. Then cool air brushed her skin, her blouse was tossed aside and he let out a small groan as he brushed his fingertips across one taut nipple. Victoria arched, she quivered, and when he bent his head, a small sound escaped that she simply could not help as he suckled her breast.

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It all blended. The wildness of their surroundings, the silk of his hair brushing her skin, the sound of the wolf again in the distance… It was fragmented and yet part of the same picture, this new life she was forming, and the men who were helping her find that inner being that had been so shaped and defined by centuries of protocol and repression. At the moment, all she cared about was that Cole was touching her, tasting her, and that the stars above were as brilliant as the crown jewels. He’d sworn to himself he could behave for at least one night and not take her. Unless, of course, she wanted it, invited him again, but Cole’s resolve to wait and see if she would had crumbled about the time they’d made camp. She had the most luscious breasts, he decided, as he stripped her clothes away, drawing hard on one pink, ripe nipple with his mouth. Victoria’s pale skin was a contrast to his long fingers as he stroked the full mound of flesh cupped in his hand. Not much more than what could fill his palm, but he had decent-sized hands, and she was slender everywhere else, so the contrast was entirely feminine and absolutely perfect. He couldn’t wait to be inside her again, to watch her face as he made love to her, to touch, taste and caress every silken inch of skin as he brought her the ultimate pleasure. And this time he wasn’t just playing, just dabbling in love with loose ladies who had as little interest as he did in the future, but he was in earnest, and when Victoria moved underneath him restlessly as he hastily unbuttoned his shirt, he fought the urge to tell her the truth.

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This was the most he’d ever connected with a woman. He was afraid it was too much, and damn it to hell if he wasn’t starting to feel like a human being again on top of it all. Pale hair spilled over his arm as he bent her backwards, and he nuzzled the underside of her breast, then had the presence of mind to at least think about her comfort, and shifted her in his arms. “I want you.” An understatement, a small voice inside admonished. He was rock hard, aching, and he needed to ignore that exacerbating need and ensure her pleasure first. His hand slid over her thigh as he lowered her to the blankets. “Now.” What he really wanted was to have her—this instant. To touch and hold, to hear the cadence of her breathing as he brought her to climax, to feel the bite of her nails, to experience the exquisite moment her inner muscles tightened around his cock as she came… Part of it was the stars, the wind, the darkness, the solitude. He had an idea of what ownership meant in regular society, but it was not an issue between the four of them and he knew—knew—Robert and Jace agreed with him. Warm, wet heat met his fingers as he slipped his hand between her thighs, and the answering catch in her breath made him smile as his fingers slid deep. He pressed her back against the blankets and her yielding body welcomed him in a way he recognized. Cole knew all about how to please a willing lady. He’d been about fifteen when one of the housemaids decided to give him an education in how it all worked between men and women. He might have mixed blood, but females liked his looks, and he’d never lacked for company in bed if he wanted it. But he was still learning about how to be a lover. The nuances were different, and each touch, each kiss, was so full of meaning. Pleasure was not just a fleeting means to satisfy his body.

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He needed to satisfy his heart as well. Considering that, he had a different perspective on what was about to happen. He unfastened his pants, shucked them off and lay next to her, propped on one elbow, his hand running the length of her lissome body. Her pale hair tumbled against the dark blankets in a luxurious spill of satiny strands, her eyes dark and wide, and with each breath her bare breasts quivered. “You’re so damned beautiful,” he murmured, his fingertips skimming her belly, tracing down to the curve of her hip. “Like the sunrise on a clear morning.” “So are you,” she whispered back, lightly touching his chest as if measuring the contours of muscle and bone, her hand drifting downward. Long lashes lowered a fraction. “Though I confess I have no poetic comparisons. Let me just say that this”—she touched his erection in a feather brush of her fingertips that made his entire body tighten—“is not something proper English ladies are told about.” “With good reason, no doubt.” He stifled a groan as she touched him again, wrapping her slim fingers around his straining flesh and squeezing gently. “In this state males are pretty dangerous to virtuous females.” “What about less-than-virtuous ones?” “Victoria.” He cupped her cheek and lowered his heads to kiss her. Hot, hard, with open hunger because he never wanted her to think of herself that way. He whispered against her lips, “Virtue is a matter of interpretation anyway. I’ve known all kinds of women in my life, but never anyone like you. Brave, strong, intelligent and kindhearted. What more could a man want, and trust me, I feel that way about you.” That was as close as he could come to saying the words. I love you. But he was thinking it and if he had to examine his feelings—and he hadn’t done that in years—it would scare the hell out of him.

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He chose to show her instead, positioning himself between her open legs. His entry was slow, measured and made his eyes close in pleasure, the sleek, gliding sensation enough to elicit a slow groan from deep in his chest as he penetrated her and sank into heaven. Victoria sighed in his ear as he glided forward, and he found that sound more erotic than anything he’d heard in his life. “This way.” She was obviously startled when he rolled to his back, keeping their bodies joined, and she suddenly found herself astride him. For a moment he let her adjust to the new position, his cock buried inside her, and just admired how her hair caught the gleam from the dying fire. Then he urged, “Ride me.” She had no idea what he meant. “Like this.” His hands urged her on, lifting her hips until he almost slid free, and then lowering her into an impaling thrust. Damn, it feels so good… There, with the low moan of the wind and the bite of the cool of the evening, she began to move, learning the motion, a little awkward at first but discovering the angle that gave her the most pleasure in the joining of their bodies, joining of their souls. The sensation was so perfect he fought the urge to move faster, prolonging the pleasure until she moaned and her hands clutched his shoulders in a request that needed no words. Her orgasm came first, the almost frantic tightening of her thighs a telltale sign right before she let out a small cry and shattered above him. Cole rode the same wave, the rapture lashing through him as he stiffened and ejaculated, hot seed spilling from his body in white-hot pulses that took his breath away.

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Afterwards, gently rolling sideways and sliding free, he held her close and pulled the blankets over them both, the fire flickering into coals, Victoria’s breathing slowing into the lassitude of slumber. And a single shooting star fell in a graceful arc, crossing the velvet sky before it disappeared. It was a message. He was no shaman, and he’d didn’t follow a lot of the ways of his mother’s people, but he was a believer. There were too many miracles in this world for him to think outside forces did not have power. He’d attended the ceremonies in his youth, and listened to the stories. Caught between two worlds, he’d always approached life with a pragmatic view of how civilized societies worked, and a sense of the mystical power of the universe itself. Life, he thought as he cradled her in his arms, symbolized in a way only my mother’s gods would use. It was a sign. If he had to interpret it, he would guess he’d just fathered a child.

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Chapter Eleven

The dark clouds glowering on the horizon along with the increased whistle of the wind weren’t a good sign, and Jace slapped the reins, moving the wagon along at a faster speed. Luckily, it looked like they might make it. The valley was straight ahead, and even with the storms rolling in on a hot early autumn afternoon and the sky turning a lurid, greenish color that reminded him of his boyhood on the West Texas plains, he was damned glad to be in familiar territory. Twisters didn’t happen often out here like they did back there, but they happened. He and Robert were out in the open with two wagonloads of supplies, and if the truth be told, they’d been gone about four days too long. Quite a feeling for a drifter. They made it just as the first spit of rain touched his face, and he jumped out of the wagon, leading the horses into the barn, Cole running out to help Robert as they got their supplies inside just in time. Between the three of them they unhitched the teams, put them up and fed the animals, and had the wagons settled before all hell let loose. The dash to the ranch house was made in the pouring rain, but it was worth it to come through the door and see Victoria standing there, her anxious expression smoothing into a smile. Yeah, that was worth every dusty, long mile. “You’re safe,” she said tremulously, and then laughed as Jace pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly, her lips soft and receptive, her breathless response exactly what he’d craved every long step of the way back.

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This is what it is like to have a woman care about you. Maybe she was right about her clothes, because she wasn’t the least bit boyish in her trousers and cotton shirt, her golden hair caught back at her nape in a simple style. “Cowboys,” she said, but the reprimand was soft, in her cultured English voice as she stepped back, and the way she shook her head at odds with the slight sheen of tears in her azure eyes. “I was so worried,” she told Robert, and the way he took her hand and raised it to his lips wasn’t just gallant, but spoke volumes. They’d been worried too. Not that Cole couldn’t take care of himself, he sure as hell could, but the Utes were unpredictable, and they weren’t the only threat in this remote place, especially with the Saxon gang in the area. He was just one man. A formidable one but still outnumbered if there had been an attack, and thank heavens it hadn’t happened while they were gone. There were flowers in a jar on the windowsill. Jace noticed them as soon as he went inside. He swept off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, recognizing Indian paintbrush and wild daisies, and for whatever reason his throat felt tight at that moment. This…this is home. “Good trip?” Cole asked it quietly, but his eyes spoke more than his voice. “No real trouble,” Robert told him evasively, taking out a bottle and setting it on the table. “And I’ll drink to that. It was a dry trip, at least until we got here. We brought back whiskey and I wheedled a bottle of wine for Victoria out of the wife of the storekeeper.” Jace could attest that they were pretty worn out, and they were definitely thirsty.

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They’d need to talk about running into Frank Saxon pronto, but not in front of Victoria. “I think we could all use a toast to the fact that you’re home safe and sound.” Cole got out four cups from the shelf by the sink—the wooden plank table newly cleaned and looking a lot sturdier than before they’d left. He opened the wine first using his knife, splashed some into a glass and handed it to Victoria, his smile just a flash of white teeth. “Ladies get to go first.” “What is this?” She eyed the reddish liquid in her glass with evident trepidation. “Not a fine claret.” Robert slipped off his gloves, his smile slight. “They were fresh out of that in Rio Verde. But my grandmother used to make fruit wines too, and the lady at the mercantile swore you would like this. Maybe we’ll go looking for wild blackberries in the next few weeks and give it a try ourselves. She wrote down the recipe.” Jace had to hide a grin at the idea of Robert mixing up a batch of wine, his brawny arms vat deep, but then again, if it would please Victoria, he might help out himself. She tasted it tentatively, and then took another sip. “Actually, it is quite delicious.” Spoken in such a proper English voice. What was delicious was her delicate bone structure touched by the shadows thrown by the clouds of the storm, her shining golden hair, the plain, still-barren ranch kitchen adorned just by her beauty and the sound of the rain pounding the roof… “It’s good to be back.” Jace took the glass Cole had poured for him and swallowed a large mouthful, the liquor soothing his parched throat. “I needed that. A bath wouldn’t be bad either.”

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Later he’d tell Cole all about the Saxon brothers tracking him down… God knew those brethren all should have been wiped off this green earth by now, but if a problem wasn’t going to go away, it just wasn’t. There was bad blood, and then there was a certain kind of enmity that gave new meaning to the word feud, and between Cole Thune and Lawrence Saxon the latter applied. Jace would stake his life they’d see each other dead one day, and if Saxon had traced Cole already, that didn’t bode well for a peaceful future. Frank, too, was a piece of refuse best swept in the gutter, and maybe he should have done it right then and there on the street. And normally, he would be up for the fight—he’d welcome facing any one of those bastards—but Victoria changed the dynamics of it all. After the run-in with Frank, Robert had asked a few questions of the storekeeper, who was in a talkative mood considering all the money they had just spent. The Saxon band was six strong according to him. They’d caused some trouble at the hotel, and must be camping out nearby because they rode in nearly every night. The trip to Rio Verde, in Jace’s opinion, had been lucky. If he and Robert hadn’t gone, they wouldn’t even be aware the Saxons were in the area. “It does look quite unsettled out there.” Victoria glanced toward the door, her expression a bit apprehensive as a gust of wind rattled the rain-streaked windows, and the door, which was only loosely hung on rusting hinges, shuddered. “It must storm in England.” He actually really didn’t know. It sounded like a much too civilized place for unruly weather but he’d never paid much attention to history in school. “It does.” She nodded, lifting her cup to her mouth and taking a small sip of wine. “But everything seems bigger here.”

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“You should see Texas. The storms that roll across where I come from are real devils.” “I think, perhaps, that explains quite a lot.” It was said so elegantly that it took him a moment to realize she was teasing him, except both Cole and Robert laughed, the latter adding more whiskey to his cup.” Jace grinned. “Got me there. I’m no angel, ma’am.” “I have noticed, Mr. Vance,” she shot back, a small smile twitching her mouth. It was one of the things—and there were quite a few as he was a love-struck fool—he admired about her. She had a very real sense of humor that did not involve stuffy propriety—which was just as well, as propriety had no place out in their remote valley, and he sure as hell wouldn’t know how to deal with it. “Have you now?” he drawled with a slow, wicked smile. “What else have you noticed?” “That the rain is letting up already.” She smiled and took another sip of her wine, but her eyes held his for a long, poignant heartbeat that said she’d missed him too. Yeah, he was lucky as hell. Dinner was delicious and included some fresh vegetables, which were most welcome after all the trail fare she’d had recently. They were at the plank table, the meal over, and she would never cease to be amazed at how much they each consumed, but then again they worked hard and were rather large human beings compared to her. Very carefully, she set aside her fork next to her empty plate, the stew quite delicious with some carrots and potatoes tossed in, and Robert had made the

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biscuits, which were flaky and completely different from when she attempted the same effort. The storm had passed quickly—a cloudburst that had merely dropped the temperatures enough to be sufferable and left the air clean and clear. “It’s getting dark.” An ambiguous statement, but then again, this was a lot more to do with the dynamics between the three of them rather than her specifically, though she’d like to think as she was in the middle of it, her feelings were a consideration also. In fact, she knew they were. But, as much as she acknowledged that, their camaraderie was affected also, and she never wanted to be the cause of any friction between three men who had come to mean not just a great to her, but to each other. “We’ll clean up.” Robert, always the thoughtful one, got up and scooped her plate off the table. “You were stuck here with Cole for almost a week. That would wear anyone out.” Jace laughed, his handsome face, albeit somewhat sunburnt from the trip, alight. “I agree.” “Funny.” Cole just lifted his brows and rose to get a bucket. “I’ll bring in the water if you two want to stoke the fire for the kettle.” It was past the time when she felt useless—they’d done their best to overlook her lack of skills at anything that even remotely resembled a domestic task, but still Victoria got to her feet and began to briskly clear the table. “I may not be skilled in the kitchen, but I can wash dishes. I am certain there are issues you all wish to discuss, with or without me. Feel free to go outside. I prefer you do not light tobacco in the house anyway.” It was ironic to think that while most women found one husband hard enough to deal with, she theoretically had three. Not that she was legally wed to any of them, but that was starting to matter to her less and less. Actually, if she

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stood before a bishop—there weren’t any available anyway—and swore devotion to one man, then she would be breaking her word to God in her mind. This way, the arrangement might be an affront to the world she’d once known, but it made sense and there was no obligation to choose, which would be impossible. Sobering, that was. Whore, or simply a woman who was extremely lucky? As she carefully stacked the plates, stoked the fire so the water would heat, and performed a task her family back in England would consider below anyone but a scullery maid, she had to ask herself how much of life was chance? Chance of birth, chance of circumstance, even chance of wily fate… An earl’s daughter, at the moment washing dishes for three men who were clearly not on the right side of the law? On the other side of the coin, she was the daughter of a wastrel who despite his aristocratic background had ruined not only his own life, but that of his child, and left her adrift in a world that did not forgive those that fell from grace, even if one was just associated with the culprit. All in all, she decided as she poured steaming water into the wash basin, she preferred Cole, Robert and Jace, none of whom apologized for their past, and who actually cared about her. And they did. She knew they did, and it wasn’t just desire. That notion, in a life that had included a great deal of disappointment and disillusionment from men, was difficult for her to imagine, but she did realize it. Robert took a soapy plate from her hand, his smile warm. “I missed the way you move. Graceful. Like a deer in a meadow on a summer morning.” “More like a hawk hovering on an afternoon breeze over the West Texas plains.” Jace walked up behind her. “Beautiful with no effort at all.”

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When his arms slid around her, she took in a breath and it caught in her throat as his mouth teased the nape of her neck. “I missed you too,” he murmured into her hair. And wanted her. It wasn’t hard to discern that even through his clothing, and when she turned in his arms, he kissed her again, more fully, hungry and hard—literally. Impetuous…well, of course, it was Jace, and he was always impetuous even with Robert standing there, and yet she couldn’t help but kiss him back, her eyes stinging with tears. It had not struck her how anxious she’d been about both of them until she and Cole had seen the first plume of dust drift up, signaling that someone was approaching the ranch. “Come with me?” Jace made it a question, not a demand, and lean fingers laced through hers. “I’m damn near half-daid from thinkin’ about you.” On the contrary. He looked very much alive with his quicksilver smile and those audacious blue eyes, but there was a lingering poignancy in his tone and of the three of them, he had been the one from the beginning to swear he loved her. The heat from his body was like a combustible fire. He’d bathed after the long, hot ride, and the clean scent of simple soap drifted from his skin. His jaw was clean shaven, his blond hair tousled and damp. He tucked a stray curl of her hair behind her ear, his calloused fingers gentle. “Robert and I couldn’t help it, we bought you a dress. Not as pretty as what you must have had back home, but blue like your eyes. Still, I’m not denyin’ I’d rather see you in nothing at all right now.” Dusk had settled in, and his hands ran lightly down her sides persuasively. Victoria couldn’t help but notice that Robert had left the room, the door closing softly.

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“I missed you too,” she said quietly. “If something happened to you or Robert, I would never have—” “Nothing happened.” Jace jerked her closer, his eyes like blue flame. “We both stayed sober and away from the saloons. We wouldn’t…I mean, neither of us would think of taking a chance, not with this, not with you to come back to. I don’t know if you understand what that means in a cowboy’s life. Most of us don’t count for much. If we were gone tomorrow, someone might dig us a grave, and then maybe not. I’d trust Cole and Robert with my life—I’ve done it before and will again, and they’ve done the same for me, so that takes care of dyin’, but I’m not sure in my adult life I’ve ever really had anything to live for before.” She wasn’t sure what she would have said if he’d waited, but this was Jace, and so naturally he didn’t. Just swooped her up in his arms. In less than a minute he’d kicked closed the door to her room, deposited her on the makeshift mattress and was unbuttoning his shirt. He sat down to take off his boots, and then shoved down his pants with impatient hands. His erection was perfectly formed and suited his lithe body, glistening at the tip, his grin cheeky as he eyed her supine form and drawled in a mock English accent that still held a liberal Texas twang, “Lady Victoria, you are overdressed for this shindig.” How many times had she been complimented on a new gown that her father had never paid for, or been given false flattery? But the open emotion in Jace’s face was worth much more than soft, smooth words. With deliberate coquetry, she murmured back, “Perhaps you can help me with that.” “I can have you stripped bare and under me in about five seconds,” he promised, his voice holding a raw edge. True to his word, he divested her of her clothing so fast that all she could do was laugh in protest over his haste in case he tore off a precious button, and then

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he tumbled her back, covering her with his larger form, his mouth hungry at her breast, his fair curls soft under her fingers. When he entered her it was slowly, his caution evident in the slight sheen of sweat on his back under the press of her hands, and he exhaled when his cock slid all the way in, his eyes briefly closing. The first time was a swift culmination, but he never withdrew from her body afterward, whispering in her ear, his roving touch gentle for a man who was much more used to action, and then he was moving within her again, this time slow and deliberate. As the pleasure escalated, Victoria accepted it, accepted him, and arched into the penetration with a deliberate lift of her hips that was part of her newfound knowledge. She gave as well as took, and when she quivered against him in acute pleasure, Jace hoarsely said her name and went rigid for a second time. Unlike Cole, who as far as she could tell, almost never slept, Jace tucked her close and drifted off, his arm possessive around her waist. Nestled next to his rangy body she felt very secure, especially knowing that Robert and Cole were nearby. And she drifted away as well.

“So, what happened in town?” Cole rested his elbows on his knees, staring off over the darkness of the range, thin moonlight illuminating the corrals and giving the hulking barn definition. “I know something did.” Robert leaned back on a crude bench, the slight creak of the wood telling. Insects in the cottonwoods in the courtyard keened in the background, and it smelled like rain in the aftermath of the storm. To put off answering, he asked, “And how in the hell do you know that?”

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Cole turned his head, his ebony hair brushing his shoulders, his smile ironic. “Both you and Jace are like staring through a spring-fed lake. Crystal clear. You want to walk around it, and he’s so damned restless he dragged Victoria to bed like a starving man who’s seen his last meal. You think and he acts. Nothing there I haven’t seen before.” “He’s in love with her.” Robert said it only in mild denial to buy more time. Things had been going so well for them. “Aren’t you?” Trust Cole to not dance around it. The crisp night breeze was fragrant with a hint of pine. “Yes,” Robert admitted, rubbing his jaw. He hadn’t taken the time to shave while they were gone, so it felt good to have it smooth again. He’d never liked a beard. “What man wouldn’t be? I’m trying to picture what it would be like here if we had never found her, and I’d guess the three of us would make a go of this ranch, enjoy working on our own place, and get along fine, but let’s face it, Cole, we’d be missing something. I didn’t really realize it until I found myself pushing the team to get here faster just so I could see her step out onto that porch and wave at me.” Cole never had been one for overt displays of emotion, but for a moment his face was unguarded, maybe even vulnerable. “I was pretty glad to see the wagons coming too. I’ve never doubted my ability to protect myself…never cared all that much, if you want the truth. If something happened to me, well, that was just too damned bad. But if something happened to her, that’s different. The more guns we have here, the better I feel. You’re hell with a rifle at long range, and Jace can draw faster than anyone I know.” And Cole was just as good at both, and deadly in other ways too. Robert had seen him in a knife fight once, and if he’d wanted to, he could have carved the

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other man into tiny pieces and walked away not even winded. Lucky for his opponent, Cole had been in a generous mood. “The Saxons have been in town,” Robert said bluntly. “The whole gang. They’ve already mentioned your name, just sniffing around. No one knows anything, or they didn’t until Frank saw me and Jace, which happened right out on the street. Lawrence must have gotten wind we’d headed this direction. We ran right into Frank, and it might have been better if Jace had just gone ahead and drawn on him, but neither one of us expected the situation. We were trying to keep this a tame visit.” From the facts he knew, Lawrence and Cole had first run into each other years ago out east. Robert wasn’t sure what had happened after that, but the shooting of the two younger Saxon brothers in Arkansas definitely had involved some sort of vengeance on Cole’s part. He’d hunted them, and now, Lawrence was hunting him just as relentlessly. “I’m not surprised.” All trace of emotion was immediately wiped from Cole’s face, replaced by an implacable mask. “I can even say I’m glad he found me. Just a matter of time before we settle our old score, so maybe it would be better sooner than later. I’m tired of waiting for it. Lawrence isn’t as easy to kill as some, but all men are going to die someday. I don’t want it to be here at the ranch. The two-to-one odds of us against them don’t bother me much, but protecting Victoria sure as hell does.” Robert agreed, but there was one definite problem. “We can’t go looking for them and leave her alone here. And before you suggest you go it on your own, forget it, Cole. Lawrence isn’t going to fight you fair one on one like a man. He’s a yellow mongrel, and you know it. If you run him down, he’ll just have you shot out of hand instead of facing you. Maybe two to one isn’t bad, but six to one is a damn long stretch no matter how good you are.”

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His friend shoved himself restlessly to his feet. “I still might chance it. With me gone, I doubt they’ll care about this place. We all know with the dissention over slavery a war is coming. They’ll all be more eager to head back south if they think they can be part of it.” Robert had to admit to a moment of startled comprehension. Very cautiously, he ventured, “Not that I agree with it either, but your quarrel with Lawrence is prompted by his support of slavery?” “My quarrel with Lawrence Saxon is over his inhumanity.” “Care to elaborate?” Cole swung around, his face hard. “Care to hear the details of how I was crossing through Arkansas one summer night and heard a woman screaming? Want to know what Samuel Saxon was trying to do to her? And when his younger brother, who must have been the only decent one of the entire family, tried to stop him, Samuel shot him dead, and then the girl. And I shot Samuel. Oh yeah, it was fair and square, I made him draw, but the trouble was, she was not a white girl, the man that owned her was furious over the loss of his ‘property’, and since I’m not exactly white either, no one really took my side. I would have gone to trial if I hadn’t escaped that small-town jail, and I bet you I’d have hung. As an educated guess, I am going to say that Lawrence is not seeking revenge for his brother’s death, but for his brother being killed over a girl of color.” That explained a lot. Robert weighed his next words carefully, because while Cole seemed implacable, he wasn’t. “I’d have killed him too.” Cole blew out a tired breath and seemed to relax. “Fuck, Robert, of course you would have. You’re a decent man. Now, then, do you see why I want none of them near this ranch? I need to go take care of this away from here. This is big country. They may find us, they may not, but I’m not anxious to wait and see

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what happens if they do. What if they rode in, six strong, when only one of us was here with Victoria?” It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the need for action, but it needed to be calculated, and quite frankly, Cole was right. Victoria complicated everything. “If you get yourself killed, you’re a damn fool, and I have never thought of you that way. Look at what you’d be throwing away. Nice place, woman who loves you, not to mention a family someday, because I don’t think any of us are unaware of the probability that is going to happen sooner or later,” Robert argued in a reasonable voice. “Sooner.” Robert’s attention sharpened. “You know something I don’t?” “Just a hunch.” Being as Cole would have been dead long ago if it wasn’t for his almost mystical connection with the world around him, Robert nodded after a moment, the thought of a coming child startling, but then again, he’d just said himself it was bound to happen. “All the more reason we need a plan, and I happen to have one.” Cole turned then, and for the first time, a flicker of amusement lit his dark eyes. “How come I’m not surprised?”

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Chapter Twelve

“Tell me.” Victoria squared her slender shoulders. “What is so important that the three of you look so grim?” She was right. Sunny morning, blue skies, a fresh breeze, and yet all of it was balanced by a sense of darkness. Cole didn’t know how else to describe it except that there was a shadow, and for the light to come back, it had to be lifted. This was his problem essentially, though it had become a problem for them all, so he was the one who said, “You’re going up into the mountains.” “What?” She stared at him across the rough-hewn table, her oh-so-beautiful eyes full of confusion. Robert, ever thoughtful, reached over, poured her more coffee and then took a spoonful of sugar, a luxury they hadn’t had before the trip to town, and stirred it into her cup. He said quietly, “We all agree, Victoria.” “That would be fine as long as I agree also.” Her chin went up before she lifted the cup daintily to her mouth. “And I won’t until you answer my questions.” Fair enough. Actually, knowing her, Cole had expected he’d have to come clean eventually, because she wasn’t a biddable female—she’d never been one, and if she had those inclinations, she’d have stayed in England. The room was still rustic at best and showcased her elegance even in her worn clothes, as she’d refused to wear the new ones yet. Cole understood pride, he had it in full measure, and none of them had said a word yet to her refusal to take the garments Jace and Robert had bought in town.

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The least of their worries at the moment. “I’ll answer them,” he told her quietly. “Each and every one, if, at the end of it, you agree to go somewhere safe.” At some point she’d cleaned the windows, and the slanting sunlight showed painfully all the nicks in the plank floors, but they were also swept and wiped down, and the character appealed to him. What was a surface without some scars anyway? If a person lived on this earth long enough they had a few nicks and bruises. Character meant something. Across from him, Victoria didn’t falter or look away, but then again, he hadn’t thought she would when this moment came. “Tell me.” Two simple words. Such a complicated explanation. But he’d just given his word, and if it would make her cooperate, he’d confess every sin that could be attributed to his admittedly tarnished soul. “I’ve already explained I’m wanted for killing a man. His brothers are looking for me, and they are not any more worthy to be on this earth than he was. They’ve been through Rio Verde, and it is possible they will eventually find this valley. I don’t want you here when they do.” Victoria didn’t seem to know what to say. “I’m not going to claim I’ve never deliberately broke the law.” His smile was grim. “I have. Not so proud of it, but I fell down a time or two. I was a rebellious youth.” In retrospect, he recognized that maybe his father had held off marrying all those years because he was truly mourning. When he was younger, he’d disliked his father because he’d never married his mother, but now that he was older, Cole at least understood that a blue-blooded young man from a prominent family wasn’t allowed to marry an Indian maiden. He’d been torn between social

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stigmas and what he really wanted. At least Cole could say his father had never tried to deny him, and probably, when all was said and done, did his best. People had worse things happen to them all the time. Victoria, for all her privileged background hadn’t done any better, and maybe worse. She had no one. Well, not so. She had all three of them, and they were determined to keep her. “I’m no angel either,” Jace offered in his usual reckless way. “I’m wanted in Texas for killing a sheriff that was not on the right side of the law. Don’t matter if he deserved it or not—take my word he did, and it was self-defense, at that—but I’m still not allowed to go back. This is my home.” To his credit Robert added, “I’m not wanted for murder, but I’ve been willing to bend the law in a good cause all along. I make no excuses or apologies for anything I’ve done. I stand by Cole and Jace, and I always will. I believe a lot more in morality than I do in justice, especially when west of the Mississippi. One day there will be law here, but that day hasn’t really arrived yet. We need to rely on ourselves.” To say Cole was moved by the unequivocal loyalty was not adequate. It wasn’t that he didn’t know it, but the three of them would never have discussed it if it hadn’t been for Victoria, and truthfully, maybe it should have been said before. “This is my new home too,” she said after a reflective moment, her expression softening. “Now convince me why I need to leave it. You say they might find it. Why not wait and see if that happens?” This was why his gods allowed him to love her. Cole knew it. There was never a need for hysterics with Victoria, even in a moment like this that tested

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the ultimate loyalty in a woman who had been betrayed by just about everyone in her life. She would go, she just wanted to know why, and she deserved that. “They’ve managed to get this close. It’s better if we just go after them. And in the meantime, you need to be in a place where we don’t have to worry about you.” Her gaze touched on him and then swept across to regard Robert and Jace. What she saw there must have been convincing enough, because Victoria set aside her fork in a careful way. “What mountains? Those?” The Rockies sat in their jagged splendor, regal in their crowns of timbers, the tree-lined scepters gilded by the dying sun. The air was so crisp it felt like Cole could reach up and break it. “Not quite so far. About a half-day’s ride at a good pace. I have a friend with a cabin in the foothills,” he said evenly. “I’d trust him with my life, which means I’d trust him with you, and until this is resolved, I want you there, out of harm’s way.” And that was a bit more than he’d intended to say, but he did want her to realize how important this was to him. To them all. “You are saying I must go or I’d be a liability.” Luminous azure eyes looked back at him. “I understand.” The subdued inflection in her voice cut him inside. He should tell her that yes, she was a liability, and yes, she was going. But he couldn’t. Cole took a moment. Then he said against his better judgment, “No, Victoria, you don’t have to go. Or ever do anything you don’t want. Your life here is about the choices you wish to make, not the choices we make for you. Would we like you to go? Yes, we would, or we wouldn’t ask, but never do you have to do what we

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suggest. We are all partners, or else it wouldn’t work. Just think about it and let us know what you decide. It would be easier, but I can’t say easy is always best, just in this case, it looks like it to us.” It was new for her. The males in her life—her father especially—had always dictated her actions, and being told she had a choice was unique. And she found having that decision to make was a bit frightening, at least considering the question of the moment. Victoria looked at the three men around the table and found the decision was really no decision at all. Jace, Robert and Cole might not demand, but she certainly hoped she was astute enough to know that in this environment, where civilization was only remotely present, her pride might cost them their lives, for there was absolutely no doubt all three of them would sacrifice anything to keep her safe. It was humbling, actually, to go from literal riches to nothing and then find treasure of a completely different kind. There were no galas and fine balls in her future, no rich gowns, no servants…but she didn’t miss any of that. There was also no censure, no prying eyes, and a glorious sunrise while sipping coffee on the front porch eclipsed any fashionable rout. Besides, while cultured gentlemen may wear pristine linens and expensive cologne, they couldn’t match the smell of clean sweat or the vision of a honed male body stripped to the waist as he worked honestly to provide and protect. But she had a few rules. “I will go as long as you promise to return—all of you—to retrieve me when it is over.” “Yes, ma’am.” Jace, as always, was irreverent, but his eyes were intent, and the way his long fingers played with his spoon spoke measures about his unrest. “As good as said as done. We won’t be in much danger, so don’t worry.” He was not a good liar.

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“If that were true, you wouldn’t feel the need to hide me away.” Cole intervened. “We need to leave straightaway. Just pack up a few things and we’ll get your horse saddled.” “Who is taking me up there?” “I am.” He met her gaze. “Greer won’t let just anyone approach, and he doesn’t know Robert or Jace. He’d take a bead and they’d be dead.” Jace’s jaw set. “As if he could. I—“ “He’s the best long-range shot I’ve ever seen except maybe Robert, hands down,” Cole interrupted, his confidence in Greer Talbert undisputed. “If you want to sneak up on him, I don’t advise it. No one can get close. That’s why I trust him.” Robert stood then, taking his plate and reaching over to take Victoria’s as well. “I’m going to have to trust you, so then trust him, and I think you both had better hit the trail. This needs taken care of, and if you ask me, the sooner the better.” It was a relief to feel a twinge of amusement at such a time, and Robert’s matter-of-fact tone brought it. He would always—always—she knew, be the practical one: calm, even-tempered, kind…apparently even when facing a possible bloodbath with a deadly bunch of outlaws. And Jace would be reckless and wild, and Cole the main target… If she thought about it too much, Victoria knew she would be so unsettled she’d just make the situation worse. Rising from the table, she said, “I’ll go get together a few things.” It didn’t help her hands were shaking as she tucked a blouse into her bag, or that the new dress Jace and Robert had bought was laid out on her bed, the blue material pretty with tiny pink roses, and truly, even though she had much finer clothing back in England, nothing had ever moved her quite so much.

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Cole was waiting in the dilapidated courtyard, the reins of her mount in his hand, his face inscrutable. It was Robert who lifted her into the saddle. His hands lingered at her waist. “This isn’t going to take long.” She wished she could believe him. Victoria noted the golden highlights in his hair, the determined expression on his handsome face, and swallowed hard. “I hope not. And not just for my sake, but I’m going to miss you.” And the ranch. She would miss the low, sprawling house, the leaning barns, and the whistle of the wind at night. Having a home again, she was not interested in losing it, but that was hardly a consideration compared to the safety of Cole, Robert and Jace. Homes, she’d found already in her life, were replaceable. Love was not. Lightly, she touched his hand where it rested on her knee. “Every minute,” she added on a whisper. “That feeling,” Robert said with a hint of good humor but also a husky undertone, “is reciprocated three times over. We are not abandoning you, Victoria. This is just so we can get this over with, because it is going to happen one way or another. There is nothing the three of us want more than peace and quiet.” She nodded, glancing away. “And you,” he added. “We all want you too.” The words were comforting, but truthfully, she was intelligent enough to know that they were worried about the situation. Otherwise, would it be necessary to hide her away? “I’d prefer it if you all would just come with me. If it’s so safe—” “Hiding doesn’t work.” His face was implacable behind his usual affable expression. “Ask Cole. Life has a way of catching up with you. I’m not saying he

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ever went looking for trouble; I know him, and it wasn’t that way. But it found him just the same, and really, it’s best done this way.” Maybe she would have simply nodded and ridden on, but his hands still clasped her waist, and at the last minute, he pulled her back out of the saddle and kissed her, their bodies pressed together. It wasn’t very characteristic, but then again, she was finding that Cole might seem implacable but he actually was sensitive in some ways, Jace was wild but also tenderhearted, and Robert was the calm one, but he wasn’t entirely predictable either. And she kissed him back. Fervently, putting everything of herself she could into it, her arms around his neck. “Take good care,” she managed to say as they finally parted, and Robert smiled ruefully and helped her back onto her mount. “Of all of us,” he acknowledged, now that her departure was inevitable. “It’s hell sometimes to be the only one with an ounce of sense.” That won a snort from Cole, but it did make her laugh and she needed that. Then they turned their horses and headed toward the mountains.

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Chapter Thirteen

They rode into town together, three abreast, armed, ready, and Jace felt the telltale flicker of death run along the street like wildfire. He didn’t want it…he’d never wanted it, not even when he’d known he was doing the right thing, doling out justice where otherwise it wouldn’t happen. But in his mind, there was right and there was wrong. The law was all well and good—mostly good, he wasn’t against lawmen, but there were far too many bad men out there, and far too few good men to control them. This needed to happen, and when Cole had ridden down from the mountains that morning, his face set, Jace and Robert had been waiting, saddlebags packed, weapons loaded, their cause worthy. Even if Victoria wasn’t in danger, the Saxons needed to be eliminated. Taken off God’s green earth, annihilated so that the West, which was dangerous enough, was a safer place. He didn’t mind being a part of it at all. “I’ll go in first,” he said as the dust puffed up from the dry street under the hooves of their horses. “The minute they see Cole all hell is going to break loose, so let’s be ready with guns blazin’ if that’s what it takes to settle this.” “A bloodthirsty approach,” Robert commented, his dry tone balanced by his somber face, “but maybe not unwarranted. We aren’t dealing with an unknown quantity. Lawrence and his outfit aren’t going to fight fair if they get wind of us riding in.” “Did we ever think they would?” Cole expertly loosened the rifle in the sheath attached to his saddle. “Why the hell would they start now?”

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It was impossible for Jace not to shoot his friend a glance. “This has been preordained ever since that first time you faced Lawrence Saxon. I never did think you should avoid this, and with Victoria in a safe place, let’s just clean up this mess, shall we?” “Avoid?” Cole’s eyes glittered for a minute as he shot over a glance. Already the townspeople were taking notice, but then again, Cole was pretty noticeable. “I take offense at that, Jace. I was doing my best to not stir up trouble as we settled into the ranch, dammit.” “Doesn’t work,” Jace told him laconically. “Trouble jest naturally comes along. You know that.” After a minute, Cole said, “Yeah, I do.” “While your mutual philosophical approach is appreciated,” Robert murmured, his gaze scanning the dusty street, “let’s talk about it some other time. We can go to the saloons, as there is hardly any other place besides the store and the hotel, and if we want to spread the word about who we’re looking for, that is the perfect place to start.” “I agree.” Jace smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I could use a drink anyway.” Under other circumstances, he might even have gotten drunk. He was a fair shot even when inebriated, and he’d tipped back a few too many before a fight before, but not this time. It wasn’t the same—life wasn’t the same, and he was here to settle a score, not recklessly risk his life. It was enlightening to have a reason not to risk it, actually. Careful was fine, but too much caution could get you killed, because hesitation was the enemy. He reined in his horse with one hand hovering near his hip, conscious of the lack of pedestrians. He drawled, “Well, what do you know. Seems sort of like we’re expected or somethin’.”

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“The Saxons probably clear the streets all on their own.” Cole muttered. He dismounted and tossed his reins over the rail. “Lawrence has a way of making friends. Let’s go in and make sure that he realizes we’re looking for him. I’m going to bet he’ll be glad as hell to see me. What do you think?” “I think hell will be glad to see him,” Jace said and slid off his horse in one smooth motion. There was no doubt Cole was not in a very congenial mood. He’d ridden to the mountains and back, hadn’t slept in two days, and he wanted this over as soon as possible. He could have chosen anywhere to live, and Lawrence might have found him. Cole knew that. He’d seen the valley, fallen in love with it, and he had to settle somewhere eventually. What he hadn’t expected was for Saxon to be smart enough to trail him so soon. His gods would tell him that like the summer rains, life wasn’t predictable. He certainly never expected to find a woman he couldn’t live without either, and the collision of the two had him setting his jaw and checking to make sure his revolver was ready to slip free at a moment’s notice. The saloon was decently crowded, so noisy that when Cole and his two companions strolled through the door it quieted enough to be noticeable, and that wasn’t surprising. They were well-armed and not the usual crowd, and had he been sitting at one of the tables or leaning against the bar, Cole would have gone quiet too as he waited to see why three heavily armed strangers had just entered the building. That question was answered by Jace, who was about as stoppable as a thunderstorm when riled. “Saxons?” he said succinctly in his Texas drawl to the

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room at large, his spurs clinking as he advanced. Then his gaze riveted on a man who had half-risen from his chair. “Well, lookie there. It’s Frank, Cole. I’m thinkin’ he can tell you where Lawrence might be hiding out. If he was in town, he’d be here, because I’ve been told he ain’t welcome back at the hotel, so that kinda means he isn’t in Rio Verde.” “I’m telling you nothing,” Frank Saxon, lanky and sandy-haired, started to bluster, but when Cole leveled a cold stare his way, he stopped. His vest was open and his gun low on his hip but he sank back down and put his hands on the table. Courage had never been his strong point, and it was obvious his brother had left him behind. “I don’t know where he is.” “Liar.” Jace strolled closer, slow and deliberate. “Maybe you could recollect if you had a bit of persuasion.” “Like what?” The sneer lacked any real conviction. Frank looked a little pale. Cole knew he had to keep this situation under control from beginning to end. Still, Victoria was safe with Greer and combustible was a relative word. The lighting of the match was the crucial choice, and Frank alone was not much of a challenge. But then again, they’d come to pick a fight, and Jace was very, very good at that. Amused, Cole watched him work. “Ya know”—Jace scratched his jaw while his other hand hovered low near his hip—“I’m not so stupid as to think your brother would leave town with most of his entourage and not tell you where he was headed. As a matter of fact, I’m not stupid at all, so unless you want to walk out into that street right now and face me, I want to know exactly where your slinkin’, low-crawlin’ brother went.”

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As diplomacy went, it didn’t rank high, but Cole was keeping an eye on the entire room, so he didn’t bother to throw in kinder words just to protect Frank’s tender feelings. “You calling me out?” Frank would have done it better if his voice hadn’t cracked just a fraction, but it did, and Jace was like a wolf scenting blood. “Yep. We shoulda done it in Kansas City. I shoulda done it the other day. I was tempted, mind you, but decided to let you walk. That’s not happening this time.” The clatter of chairs scooting back was hardly unfamiliar, but Cole wasn’t just a bystander. He’d had friendships—not many that stood the test of notoriety and time—but he uttered an inner curse for Victoria’s sake, because he sure as hell didn’t want to be the one to tell her Jace got himself shot, and it wouldn’t make him very happy either. The three of them were close enough he thought of them as brothers. The four of them were a family. For whatever reason, the thought of it almost shocked him, and at the moment, he couldn’t afford to be distracted. Robert evidently felt the same way, because he said so quietly that only Cole could hear, “Can we handle this?” It was easy enough to gauge the crowd and Cole nodded barely. “The one in the silver vest. He’s twitching. Watch him. I’ve got the rest. Jace can handle Frank. He’s wanted this since Kansas City. Let him go.” Robert actually grinned. “Do I have a choice?” “I’m thinking you don’t,” Cole admitted, his gaze sweeping the room yet again, always looking for signs of movement. “He’s an unstoppable force sometimes.” “Yeah, I pretty much came to that conclusion too,” Robert muttered, but he moved right, his hand hovering near his gun.

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It wasn’t complicated, because Frank was not an enigma to begin with but a bully with his brother and their cohorts behind him and not nearly so brave on his own. The only reason he’d stayed behind was probably because he was holding a big pile of chips on the table. “Where’s Lawrence? I’m not gonna ask again.” Jace swaggered closer, his hand quivering, and everyone at the table dived away. “Tell me or draw. Now. I’m not in a kindly mood. I keep remembering the last time we met.” Frank now went truly white under his dusky tan, but he stood suddenly, his hand sweeping up. “Go to hell.” Wrong thing to do. Jace was a blur, the retort of his gun going off well before Frank’s, and the latter clutched his thigh, rolling to the floor, groaning. “Where?” Gun quivering, Jace advanced. Gasping, Frank sat up and spat the words, “He went to burn you out.” The coffee was jet black and bitter, but she was getting used to the taste, though she had to admit it was much stronger than what Robert had taught her to make. Victoria used her hand to cover the cough. “Like sucking down distilled black earth,” the man, introduced to her as Greer when she was summarily dropped off on his doorstep—not that the ramshackle cabin actually had one—remarked, his smile brief and a welcome break from his usual taciturn silence. “I’ve always liked it that way. It will warm your innards.” She had a vague idea that the term innards was indelicate—she had certainly never heard it before—and that her host was only a reluctant one at best, but she nodded and cleared her throat. “I can see how it might be an acquired taste.”

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He chuckled. “You really are an English lady. Could tell it even without the accent. Only someone born and bred polite would pretend to like my coffee. I’ve seen hardened men not able to choke it down.” Greer, who was certainly not a cultured gentleman at all with his strange red fuzzy shirt and suspenders, sank down into a crude chair. He looked unkempt and rough, but there was a definitive intelligence in his eyes, and Victoria had to admit she didn’t feel threatened, but oddly at ease. However, this was the first even remotely personal thing he’d said to her since her arrival. He actually seemed to spend almost all his time out of doors, disappearing into the pines surrounding the little cabin and not returning for hours, but Victoria had the feeling he was always close by. “From Wiltshire,” she confirmed. Then she set aside her cup on the floor, since every available surface was covered by books stacked in piles, crowded in corners and even used to prop up the makeshift table where they’d eaten an interesting breakfast of rabbit in a stew of some kind. She hadn’t recognized half the ingredients, but she was hardly an accomplished cook. Unshaven and of an indeterminate age, flecks of gray in his beard, Greer nodded as if he knew exactly where Wiltshire was in regard to the rest of England. He downed his cup of coffee like it tasted good—it was awful—and set the tin cup aside. “Never been there.” Cole was gone. When she’d woken two mornings ago he wasn’t there, even though it was barely dawn. Victoria had a feeling he’d left in the middle of the night, probably the minute she’d fallen asleep. She was stuck in a literal sense with this man after Cole had unceremoniously dumped her off. She had to admit, glancing around the humble rough-hewn interior so incongruously filled with books, she wondered why the

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conviction existed she would be safe and equally why she would be welcome without any advance warning at all. “It’s very different from here. Have you traveled much at all?” “France. Thought I’d like to see it. My mother was part French,” he said reflectively. “Truth was, I didn’t care for it much.” It was someplace she’d always wanted to visit, so she was a bit speechless, especially since she didn’t picture this man—the one currently rolling a cigarette with one hand, his tobacco pouch in the corner of his mouth—the type that would travel to the Continent. After a moment, she asked curiously, “Why not?” “Too many Frenchmen.” That drew a small choked laugh. “I thought you were part French.” “I am. That’s why I went. Land of my fathers and all that.” When she stared at him, he added with a gruff laugh, “Not so much that they were French, I suppose. It would have been that way anywhere. Just too damn many people.” That certainly wasn’t a problem where they were now. A low, lonely wind rustled the pines outside. “How do you know Cole?” The man shrugged. “Just friends. We met years ago out east. I don’t care for that part of this country either. Crowded noisy cities bother me, but it took me a while to figure it out. That’s why I came out here. This suits me fine.” It was a long speech for him and so Victoria didn’t pursue it. It wasn’t like Cole would ever leave her with someone he didn’t trust. She knew that. Now all she had to do was take her mind off what might be happening in Rio Verde. But she couldn’t. “What are they going to do?” He could have pretended to misunderstand, but that didn’t seem to be his character, and he didn’t disappoint. “Cole has needed to kill Lawrence for a

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while now. Saxon is a mean cuss, and there is some really bad blood between them. Best just to spill it.” That was brutally honest enough, but it wasn’t as if she was so sheltered she didn’t understand that removing her from the ranch indicated a fight in the making. Victoria took a minute, decided that since he seemed to be plainspeaking it wouldn’t hurt to ask, and said simply, “How?” “Showdown, I reckon.” Greer shrugged his hulking shoulders. “I didn’t ask. But Cole is a hunter…he’ll corner the varmint, dare him to try to fight it fair, but Lawrence won’t do it. That’s where his friends will be helpful…to keep it even.” “I had the impression there were more of them.” “The Saxons? There are.” She couldn’t help it, she got up and paced across the small room, weaving her way through the stacks of books, wondering abstractly how long it had taken her gruff host to pack all those heavy volumes up to this remote place. “He told me about his past.” She equivocated, “Or some of it.” “You probably wouldn’t want to know all of it.” It wasn’t like she hadn’t come to the same conclusion, or for that matter, Cole had said so straight out, but he was also adamant he wasn’t ashamed of anything he’d done, and she thought that was true. “Maybe not,” she admitted. “He won’t be back for days. You like to read?” It was difficult not to laugh. She wasn’t sure her grandfather’s precious library held as many books as this small cabin. “I do.” “Good thing, that,” he remarked, getting up to pour another cup of that vile coffee. “Ain’t much else for a lady to do around here.” Luckily she’d taken a minute to pack the precious paper and writing instruments that Robert and Jace had brought back for her, so maybe this was a good time to start her journal.

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Chapter Fourteen

They found the Saxon gang camped on the other side of a clump of cottonwoods by a meandering stream, their horses openly grazing in a small natural pasture. With a bullet in his leg, Frank was more inclined to talk than he’d first let on, especially when he really started to bleed and no one was interested in finding the local doctor. His directions had been pretty accurate, probably because Jace said with ice-cold conviction he’d come back and finish the job if he sent them in the wrong direction. By now it was dusk, Robert was strung tight as a wire, and when Cole motioned with his head in a swift, meaningful jerk, they all dismounted and tied off their horses. The ridge that ran along the valley was only miles from the ranch, and it was pretty clear that the Saxon outfit was waiting for nightfall. By his calculations, about the time they were reaching Rio Verde, the gang had been riding out, and they must have just missed each other because it didn’t look like they’d been there long. Jace’s and Cole’s weary horses were lathered too, and Robert was glad they’d found them easily enough. He rubbed his gelding with a soothing hand. “I need to be a little closer for a shot. From this range, I can’t promise anything.” “If we wait too long, they’ll saddle up. I’m not sayin’ in the end we won’t cut them down in their tracks, but I don’t want to lose the house and any stock. We’ve got two new foals in that barn.” Jace sounded more furious than anything. “At least Victoria isn’t there. But if we hadn’t happened to go to town…”

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That message wasn’t one any of them had missed. And he was right, it did help to know she was protected, and especially now, when they were all tired, travel-worn, and knew there was a bloodbath ahead. Of course, Robert could take at least a few of them out before they scattered—if he could get a clear shot at a better range while the light still held. “It’s my guess they won’t move until late, hoping to catch us asleep.” Cole sank down on his haunches and shaded his eyes. “They’re drinking. Passing around a bottle. Playing cards. Lawrence must figure we’ll be on guard after you ran into Frank, but he seems to think that won’t be a problem.” “He doesn’t even make a good outlaw,” Jace declared in disgust, flipping open his saddlebag. “But I’m going to wager he’ll make a fine dead man.” The sun was sinking in a blaze over the mountains, and fingers of golden light fed with fire slipped over the far timberline. If Cole was tired, it didn’t show, but he had to be. Between taking Victoria up to Greer’s cabin and then riding to town and now heading back, he hadn’t slept more than a few hours in several days. Instead he looked tightly strung, drawn like a bow, his face taut. “We can’t give them a chance to get there before we do.” “Got to admit I agree with that.” Robert tossed aside his gloves. “Wonder how Lawrence is gonna feel when he finds out his brother turned on him.” Jace’s expression was hard-edged. “If he’s been paying attention his whole life, not surprised. Frank is a snake.” Cole said it matter-of-factly as he rose and glided toward the shadows away from the campfire. “I’m speaking from past experience. During the time I was jailed in Arkansas, he perjured himself every time he opened his mouth. Frank’s a liar, but he told us the truth for once in his miserable life. Nothing like the sight of his own blood to bring a man some religion.” “Can’t argue that,” Robert agreed dryly. “At least there’s only five of them.”

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“Ah, it warms my heart to think Lawrence will soon be singing with the angels,” Jace said. “I shoulda killed Frank, but then he couldn’t have talked. Besides, damn if we aren’t already a little conspicuous, and we are going to need supplies. I don’t want to ride into town and have everyone afraid of me. I’m tryin’ to retire from notoriety, not make it worse. At least a roomful of people heard what he said. Whatever happens next, they’ll know we were just defending ourselves and our property.” “He deserved killing, but the law frowns on it, even out here.” Cole elevated a brow sardonically and came back into the light of the licking flame. “And as for angels, I don’t think Lawrence is going to be wearing any wings. Here.” Robert deftly caught the round of ammunition in the gun belt with one hand, his other hand shifting his tin cup of whiskey up against harm’s way. “I have to agree. Lawrence and Frank will both go straight to hell.” “They will if I have anything to do with it.” Cole sat down again, his hands threaded through a lacing of beads that he moved restlessly through his long fingers. “We could do it in the dark, nice and quiet. I have my knife.” “But that doesn’t feel right, does it? How do we play it?” Jace hunkered near the small fire, tipping just a dash of whiskey into his cup. “We don’t ambush, they do. It’s the difference, or one of a lot of them, I hope, between us.” That was true. “Still tempting,” Robert commented, which wasn’t a lie. To play by a set of rules in a place that had only the loosest of strictures was a personal choice. Honor was a matter of opinion out West, and there were a lot of honorable dead men in unmarked graves. It was all a question of what a man could live with. “Let’s move on and skirt their camp, getting ahead of them. I want them on our land when we take them. That way there isn’t a question.”

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Robert lifted a brow. “You think Lawrence is just out for an evening ride, Cole? Like Jace said, enough people heard what Frank said.” Cole turned his face into the breeze, his black hair lifting slightly. Without a fire the light was filtered by the clouds and the darkness of the trees. “Nope. He’s out to kill me, burn down the ranch, steal the stock and generally get even as he sees it.” “Then why not fight it out now?” “Because I want to be able to look anyone in the eye and say that the Saxons started it, and as of yet, they haven’t done anything. I’m already wanted for the murder of two of them, who is going to believe me if we can’t swear they initiated the fight? You have to keep in mind, I’m still a half-breed. Around here, people don’t trust Indians.” A good point. Cole was a lot of things like every man, some good and some bad, but he was not a liar. “If he knew Victoria even existed…” Jace started to say. He stopped, and Robert was just as glad, because that wasn’t a subject he wanted to contemplate either, and there was the matter of the dress they’d bought. Maybe Lawrence did know. Cole said curtly, “She’s safe, but yes, that would change everything.” “Greer better—” “He’ll keep her hidden, don’t worry. He knows what she means to me.” “Means what?” Cole’s eyes narrowed. “That’s between me and her.” “Gawd, Cole.” Jace shook his head. “You might tell yourself that, but you know it isn’t so. All four of us have a stake in this.” Robert intervened, not so much to keep the peace, but because the last thing they needed was to be at odds with one another, and the argument was pointless

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anyway as they all wanted the same goals: Victoria safe, the ranch secure and to be done with the threat of the Saxons. He said neutrally, “Sorry, pard. Jace has a point.” “I love her.” There, he’d said it. Robert was fairly sure Cole had never said out loud he loved anyone in his life. Even now the words were barely audible. “Huh.” Jace sat back against a fallen log and took a pull from his drink. “You ever think of mentioning that to her? Just wonderin’.” One of the horses moved in the darkness, the scrape of hoof on a stone drifting to them along with a soft snort before the animal started to crop the grass again. After a moment, Cole said coolly, “I’ll deal with Victoria without your advice. Can we get back to our next move? It goes without saying we want to be in the valley first, waiting for them. I say we saddle back up in about an hour. The sun will be down then.” That would give the horses at least a chance to rest a bit after being pushed the past few days—even Cole’s rangy bay had been showing signs of fatigue. Robert nodded, and the mournful sound of a wolf howling signaled the dusk. “Then we ride.”

The trouble was, Cole knew, that when dealing with the likes of Lawrence Saxon, thinking like the enemy was everything. As their horses picked down a narrow trail, he contemplated what he would do if he had no intention of facing an opponent on open ground. “They’ll come down the west ridge,” he murmured, guiding his horse with his heels. “The open approach from the east isn’t what he wants. That way he can

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start to ignite the fences first, which will stampede the stock, and then, as we rush out to take care of the fires, they can gun us down easy.” “Not so easy.” Jace’s face was hollowed in the starlight. His horse snorted, low and rough, and he held the reins lightly in his gloved hands. “I’d like to think we’re smarter than that.” “Maybe we’re about to find out.” Cole spotted a dark line of moving shapes, the thin moonlight deceptive, but…yes, there they were there, coming out of the trees, one after another. A lot smarter, he thought, bringing his mount to a halt by one of the far fences, the cattle moving a little restlessly, occasionally letting out a low call. There was a fair breeze, bringing with it the scent of grass, dry earth and a hint of sage. The first flare of a torch didn’t surprise him, but it sent a prickle along his skin, anger and resentment a flush, and Robert muttered something, tightening the grip on his reins enough his horse tossed its head. “Son of a bitch.” Cole echoed the sentiment through his teeth. He was angry, but he’d expected just this, and acting too soon was just damn stupid, so as he watched, their uninvited guests ignited two more fence posts, sending the already edgy livestock moving toward the end of the pasture. “That’s evidence enough for me.” As tired as his horse might be, he responded to the blaze by tossing his head, and his whinny would have alerted the visitors in any case. Indian-raised horses, he decided a few minutes later, were stalwart, and whatever his stallion hated about the fire, he made up for in speed as he obeyed the urge of knees and reins. The wind lashed his hair, and a primal hunger that he understood on more than one level filled Cole’s heart. This was his land. He’d bought it, paid for it

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honestly, and he would keep it. Moreover, Victoria would be safe here. This was the last time he’d have to hide her away. Ever. If he couldn’t give her more, he would give her and their child a safe, secure life. At the blood-curdling war scream all of the horses halted, circling, and three of the riders drew back, barely controlling their mounts. Lawrence was in the lead as he should be if he was in charge, and his face shone like soapstone suddenly in the moonlight as he whirled his horse to face Cole’s approach. Behind Cole Jace yelled in his rebel voice, and Robert used his rifle with unerring accuracy, shots repeating, loud, sharp… One of them fell. Cole registered the toppling form, and he thought maybe another pitched into the shadows, his horse bolting, riderless, the stirrups swinging. Bullets whizzed by his head and he hung low, riding like his uncle taught him long ago, half-hanging off his horse, his revolver needing a closer range. There was a blur of scrub trees and sage brush as he galloped up the ridge, the scent of the night sharp and narcotic. Lawrence turned his horse as if he was going to break for it in the face of such a raging barrage of gunfire, but Cole was coming fast. And then Lawrence cursed and turned back around, dragging out his gun… The hesitation cost him. One clear shot at this speed wasn’t a sure thing, so Cole took several, and maybe it was even Robert who got the son of a bitch, but he went slack suddenly, swaying in the saddle, and then as if in slow motion listed to one side and fell to the ground even as Cole thundered up, hauling his horse to a stop.

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Jace pulled up right behind him, his horse rearing, and said breathlessly, “Looks like Lawrence is a goner. Robert and I are goin’ after them other two. They went back up the ridge.” Cole nodded and slid off his mount as they spurred their horses into the darkness. His nemesis lay sprawled on the ground, still breathing, but that wasn’t going to last, the telltale gurgle never a good sign. He’d seen a lot of dying men—too many—and Jace was right, Lawrence was as good as dead. “Frank turned on you,” he said with no inflection. “That seems to run in the family. Samuel shot your youngest brother dead, and now Frank has done for you.” “Fucking…Injun…” Lawrence’s eyes were already glassy, a froth of red bubbles on his lips as he gasped out the words. He even made an attempt to grope for his gun, his hand moving in a jerky search. Hate was much too powerful an emotion, Cole decided as he watched his archenemy struggle to breathe with as much detachment as possible. He had a great respect for death. His mother’s people had taught him that, and maybe he even felt a twinge of compassion for the man lying in the dirt in the filtered light of the stars as the sound of labored breathing stopped, but it was more out of a reverence for the miracle of life that Lawrence had squandered. Men usually created their own destinies, and his had been fashioned from prejudice and a vicious nature. Still, Cole took a moment, and in honor of his mother and her beliefs, uttered a prayer of passing. Much more than the bastard deserved. The fences were still ablaze Cole registered a moment later, surprised by how easily it was all over, his hand still clenched on his gun. It was over. It was about time, and he was pretty sure no one would mourn the passing of a man who never given anything but destruction to the world.

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He had no idea how long it was before Jace and Robert returned. He was covered in soot and a fine layer of ash, and with no tools along, he’d used his hands to dig up soil and dirt to toss on the burning fence posts. In truth, there wasn’t much damage. To his look of inquiry, Robert shook his head. “They split up, running scared. We decided it was better to turn around than divide forces.” Jace dismounted and regarded the fallen men with derision, especially Lawrence. “I’d say let the coyotes have ‘em, but why would I want to make innocent coyotes sick? I’ll ride back for a shovel.” It was impossible to stifle a laugh, the release a short burst of breath. He glanced over at Robert. “You’ll help Jace? I’m going to go down and get a fresh horse and head for the mountains.” Robert understood at once. “Can’t wait until morning to go get her?” “Nope,” Cole said, shaking his head, his voice hoarse. “The wind tells me I can’t waste a precious minute.” “Then go. I’m starting to agree with your gods, Cole.”

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Chapter Fifteen

Victoria rolled over and encountered a solid, unyielding male body. Cole muttered something and hauled her closer, his face pressed to her shoulder, his breathing falling right back into a regular rhythm. His brawny arm was like an iron band she decided an hour later, but the sun was coming up and he seemed exhausted, so she gently eased free and took care of the necessities. She washed her face in the basin, dressing swiftly with a small smile at the difference in her routine from when she required a maid to do all the tiny buttons and help her with the endless petticoats. She ran a comb quickly through her hair and tied it back with a small piece of pretty pink ribbon—the only real concession to femininity—and then followed the smell of coffee from the kitchen. Robert was there, in his shirt sleeves, flour on his hands, a smile curving his lips as he glanced up when she entered the room. “He still sleeping?” “Yes. I can’t believe it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cole asleep before.” “Can’t say as I have often either. Usually he has one eye open all the time. He needed it before now.” She first helped herself to a cup of coffee, grateful it wasn’t Greer’s satanic brew, and then went to sit at the table. “I’d offer to help, but—” Robert grinned and gave a mock shiver. “Heaven forbid. Just sit there and be beautiful.”

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“I’d find that offensive,” she retorted with a small smile, “but I am too happy to be back here to condescend to comment.” Then she sobered. “Will you tell me now what happened? Cole only said it was settled. We rode half the night.” Jace might have hedged to protect her, but Robert was much more contemplative. He waited a minute, his fingers working the biscuit dough, and then he said quietly, “We had some trouble in town, and then here at the ranch. It wasn’t anything we thought we could avoid forever, but in this life I believe it comes down to what is in store for you, whether you want it or not. We didn’t go looking for it, but there it was just the same.” “What kind of trouble?” “He didn’t tell you?” “No.” Cole hadn’t even made love to her but simply held her close until he drifted off, maybe more at peace than she’d ever seen him. “Lawrence Saxon is dead, along with most of his outfit.” Robert dusted off his hands, wiped them on a towel and lifted his broad shoulders. “It was coming. Us or them, one way or the other… They tried to burn us out. I know compared to what you were used in England it seems harsh, but—” She interrupted with a lifted brow. “Harsh compared to centuries of fighting off invading armies, our own civil unrest during the Roundhead reign, not to mention our oppression of Scotland and Ireland? I don’t think we are at all more civilized, we just pretend to be.” After a moment, he laughed and inclined his head. “I suppose that is all true, Lady Victoria. I just hoped you would not be too shocked by the violence.” In the past she’d been shocked. When her father’s debt had surfaced and she realized that her family had left her adrift, the loyalty of a few servants all that had gotten her through that dark time. Then she’d set sail for America, the

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clothing she owned her only possessions, and she’d even lost that in the wagon train massacre. However, she’d learned that material needs and protocol were hardly the measure of a person’s life. “I’m never going to celebrate another person dying,” she said quietly, holding her warm cup cradled in her palms. “But I am not ever going to judge anyone again either. Whatever you did was necessary or you would not have done it. Cole would not be sleeping for the first time since I’ve known him if it hadn’t been unavoidable.” “Unavoidable.” Robert said it as if testing out the word. “I suppose that is the best way possible to explain it. Not a good thing…men dying is never good, but sometimes it is an event that is destined to happen. If this means anything, it won’t weigh on my conscience.” It meant quite a lot, actually. Jace was hot-tempered and rash, if the most sentimental, and Cole was rational, cool and without a doubt the most deadly. But Robert was a reasonable man, torn from his sedate roots much like her, and they shared a kindred spirit there. “Your thoughts do mean something to me.” Victoria took a sip from her cup, reveled in the taste of what she used to consider a bitter beverage before the past five days, and smiled. “Have I ever mentioned that I think you make the most heavenly coffee?” “No, but I’ve heard about Greer’s black cup of death.” He moved toward the woodstove, easy and lithe in his loose shirt and fitted pants, his worn boots scraping the floor. “Don’t try and win my heart with false compliments.” “I don’t just love you for your coffee,” she said recklessly, but then again, she needed to say it. Jace had certainly said it to her often enough, and Robert had also, and when he straightened, his face very still, she could only summon a shaky smile. “I do,” she added softly. “Love you, that is. And Jace and Cole. Can

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a woman be in love with three men at the same time? I keep asking myself that question.” Of any of them, he was the one to talk to about this subject. “It isn’t exactly the same principle, but I have two sisters. I go back to Boston now and again to see them because despite that I’ve chosen a very different life, we are a close-knit family. If I had a third sister, I am sure I’d be fond of her too. Love isn’t a finite commodity, Victoria, measured out in specific increments. I think that yes, one woman can honestly love three very different men. There is no romantic standard here that anyone will hold you to.” Emotion tightened her throat. “This should be complicated, but it also seems so simple.” “It is.” At first she thought he’d come to take her in his arms, but then he stopped and just looked at her, his hazel eyes soft. “No, you aren’t wrong. We all love you. Why can’t you return it? You’re everything any man could want, and we aren’t stupid.” His grin was a bit crooked. “Well, now and then I suppose we are, but finding you was the single best moment of all of our lives. We can’t even fight over you. What does that say? If you felt forced to choose, then it would be complicated.” She didn’t know what it meant. It wasn’t like it hadn’t occurred to her more than once that maybe it was natural for them to be jealous, but they didn’t seem to be. “I…I suppose you have a point.” “I’m never going to say we share you.” Robert set down his cup and looked her in the eye. “You share us. And you know, we’re all so damn glad of it, any one of us would lie down this fine morning and die for you.” “Don’t.” Her voice was poignantly charged. “Don’t die for me. Not any single damn one of you. Now you’ve all said that to me at one time or the other and I don’t want to hear it again.”

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His chestnut brows rose. “Lady Victoria, did you just curse?” “Yes, I did. Are you going to tell someone?” “Never.” His voice went soft. “Never. What happens here on this ranch is just between us.” She supposed that was true. “I am doing my best to get used to it.” With an exaggerated courtier’s bow, Robert said, “If you need convincing at any time, my lady, I am sure any one of us would be happy to oblige.” It was impossible not to laugh. “We need to repair some damage to the fences of the north pasture,” he said, expertly scooping biscuits off the griddle. “I’m going to take a few of these and head on up there. Jace rode out two hours ago.” There was something in his voice that told her the damage was directly related to what had happened, but she didn’t ask, and just nodded. “I will tidy the dishes up. It is the least I can do to repay you for giving me coffee I can actually drink.” When he left she finished her biscuit, the light crumbs drifting from her fingers as she absently brushed them off, her thoughts abstract as she got up. The well was in the courtyard, the space a bit untidy but pleasant enough in the morning sun, the walls broken but still quaintly foreign with their clinging vines and the shade of the overhanging cottonwoods. Maybe Robert was right and she was simply too conventional. Emotions rarely fit into neat slots and… She glanced up, startled, as a shadow fell across the path along with the slow scrape of steps on the uneven stones. The man was a stranger, with a hat pulled low to shade his face. A dusty hand held the reins of his horse loosely as he boldly came into the circular courtyard.

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“Howdy, ma’am.” He lifted his head enough she saw a glimpse of a faint, menacing smile, before he drawled, “Now ain’t you pretty.”

Cole rolled over, found that the soft, completely beguiling female body he sought was gone, and opened his eyes. Not just daylight, he registered, but bright sunshine spilled across the floor at an angle that told him he’d slept far longer than he ever allowed. Warrior code required strict obedience to self-discipline and lying in bed until midmorning was hardly representative of his usual schedule. He levered himself up on one elbow, brushed his long hair out of his face, and recalled recent events with a different sort of clarity. Lawrence Saxon was dead. Good. There was coffee—he could smell it—and biscuits, and that was good as well. He slid out of bed, looking around for his pants, finding them on the floor about a dozen feet away. The kitchen was deserted, the coffee pot on the old rusty stove, and he helped himself to a cup, taking it black, like always. He had to admit he felt as if the weight of the past years had lifted from his shoulders. Lawrence’s death didn’t bother him…the bastard had been nothing but a thorn in his side since that fateful day in Arkansas. Frank was a coward who would never be a threat without his older brother, and Cole thought the two other Saxon gang members who got away were probably not interested in pursuing a vendetta that wasn’t theirs in the first place. Was it possible that after all this time, he could put that incident behind him? No.

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His gods told him first, a slight prickling along his skin and then a tightening in his gut. Where was Victoria? The house was quiet. It was possible that Robert and Jace had taken her with them, but he doubted it. They were going to repair the burnt fence posts and three unmarked graves in the vicinity might upset her. He got to his feet and moved silently to the door. Outside there was dappled sunlight on the worn porch, dust motes drifting in the courtyard, a slight breeze rustling the leaves of the big cottonwood… He spied the horse, reins trailing, its head bent to the broken trough, and a jolt went through him when he realized it wasn’t familiar. Son of a bitch. “It appears your menfolk are out working.” The stranger with the glittering eyes had backed her into the barn, his threat of using the gun in his one hand or the knife in his other enough to make her unsure of what to do except retreat, step by step. “I’ll…I’ll scream.” “They going to hear you all the way out there?” “Cole is in the house.” The man’s head lifted and his smile was so chilling she felt nearly faint. “That so? I’ve been kinda wanting to see him again, so that would be just fine. So Thune has him a woman?” The man swept her with another insulting glance. “No problem spreading your legs for an Injun outlaw?” Victoria nearly stumbled over a stack of hay and caught her balance at the last minute. “None,” she said coolly. “Who the devil are you?” Her accent took him aback. He blinked and then narrowed those cold eyes again. “Just an old friend I bet Cole can’t wait to see either. Him and me, we go way back. But until that happens, there’s no reason you and I can’t get better acquainted.”

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She’d seen that lascivious look before. Back in London, in a proper drawing room while offered a most improper arrangement. It appeared to be much the same, even in an entirely uncivilized environment. She’d hated it then, and she didn’t care for it now. Victoria edged around two bags of feed. “I politely decline the honor.” “Seems to me I wasn’t giving you a choice, now was I?” The idea of being violated…Victoria shuddered, no more amiable to it than she had been back in England, palms damp, her stomach churning, and then she remembered the tack room. She was closer. He was bigger. In a swift moment of decision, she turned and ran. The door had no lock so she didn’t bother to try to shut it, but instead went for the wall, grabbing up the bow and an arrow from the quiver Cole had hung there. Notch the arrow, turn… Hands shaking she did so, but her aim as she brought it up was steady…think of the bull’s-eye, take your time… The man pursuing her merely strolled after her, thinking she was trapped now, and she was, so when he filled the doorway, she took in a breath to still her quivering hands and let the arrow fly. The thud was sickening, the whistle of inhaled breath even worse, but that horrible gleam faded from his eyes suddenly, and he dropped both the gun and the knife as his hands went to the shaft protruding from his chest. Then he mumbled something unintelligible and pitched forward at her feet. That’s when she also saw the knife protruding from his back and realized that Cole stood in the doorway, his normally swarthy skin pale and his bare chest heaving. He jumped over the man’s prone body and caught her to him, his arms a strong, solid circle. “I’m sorry. Victoria, my love…”

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“Why should you be sorry? You…you were asleep.” She was glad he was sorry, because she was sorry also…and shaking like a leaf, with tears in her eyes, though they certainly weren’t for the horrible person who had just tried… His mouth pressed her temple. “I know. Entirely my fault.” “Did I kill him?” Her eyes closed briefly. “I don’t know.” Trust Cole to never give her anything but complete honesty. “I think we may both have had a hand in it. How did you learn to use a bow?” “Archery.” “What?” He cradled her close, his arms strong. Perhaps she should have gone ahead and wept. Maybe later she would. “English ladies have some useful skills after all. It is fashionable at house parties to compete in archery. I was always fairly talented at the sport. Tell me, who is that awful man?” Cole glanced over at the crumpled body. “It appears to me that it is Samuel Saxon, the man I shot years ago.” Her eyes opened. “What?” “I was never sure if that shot was true, because by then there were people running everywhere, and the owner of the girl he’d assaulted had come out of the house and was screaming… Damn all if this doesn’t explain why Lawrence was so dogged to find me and have me hanged. It wasn’t just him, but Samuel, alive all along and wanting me dead.” She pressed her face into his shoulder. “I’m so glad you were here.” “Of course I am.” His fingers gently smoothed her hair. “As intrepid as you’ve just proven English ladies might be, you’ll never be alone.” “That suits me very well,” she answered, “for I’ve been alone far too much.”

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“Shore explains a lot of things.” Jace added a little whiskey to his coffee and leaned back, propping his booted feet on the porch rail. “It wasn’t Lawrence so dead set on killin’ you, but Samuel, I’d guess. Didn’t want to stand trial for the rape of that poor girl, so they covered up the fact that he was still alive.” “I doubt it.” Cole sat on the steps, the night breeze cool and clean as it brushed his face. There was a smattering of stars through the tearing clouds and occasionally the cattle called to each other, low and mellow. “Samuel just wanted revenge because a half-breed shot him. If he’d kill his own brother for interfering, think about how furious he must have been that an Indian stuck his nose into his business. If I hung for his murder, that was his revenge, right there. I’d like to have been there when he was told I escaped.” “Wonder whose body is in his grave,” Robert said somberly. “Strikes me as it might be that of the farmer who supposedly left town rather than testify on your behalf.” “Sounds like Lawrence.” Cole could clearly remember the bitter resentment at the unfairness of his imprisonment. “If we had never run into them in Kansas City—” Jace started to say. Cole cut him off, one arm propped on his knee, shaking his head. “The gods send you evil sometimes so you can eliminate it from the world. Seems to me that’s what’s happened. Sure, Frank is still alive, but he was never part of the brains of that gang anyway. He’ll slink away and get himself killed somewhere else. Without his older brothers, I doubt he’ll last long.” He glanced at Robert. “How’s Victoria?” “Writing in her journal. I think she’s shaken, but not as much as I would expect.” He smiled. “But then again, we all have a tendency to underestimate her.”

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“Underestimate, hell. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I was there, but she didn’t need me this morning.” Cole recalled her trembling body in his arms. “She didn’t need me to save her,” he corrected softly, “but afterwards, I think it was best she wasn’t alone.” “She wants to learn to herd cattle.” Jace said it laconically. “So she can help, and one of us isn’t always here at the house, unable to ride. I think maybe we should teach her. A good cowpony does most of the work anyway and she’s right, we could use another hand. She does know how to ride a horse, I’ve got to give that to her.” “If you don’t teach me, I may have to try and take over the cooking.” All three of them glanced up. She stood in the doorway in a simple white nightdress Jace had purchased for her on their trip for supplies. Her loose hair framed her pale face, but she was composed and a smile curved her soft lips. “I’m an Englishwoman, so thank you for admitting I can ride.” Jace jumped to his feet. Cole rose also, and Robert who was already standing, said, “You definitely can, sweetheart. Feeling better?” She nodded. “If I write it all down, years from now perhaps I can look back and remember all the remarkable events in what is turning out to be a rather adventurous life. After all, how often does an earl’s daughter end up in the wilds of America with three wonderful, caring men who also happen to be outlaws? Surely that is a story worth telling, isn’t it?”

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Epilogue

One year later “What the hell do your shaman gods, or whatever they are, have to say about this?” Cole shot Jace a lethal look. “Nothing, except they tell me you should hand me that cloth.” “Will do.” Jace obligingly handed over a slip of cotton cut into what they termed “regulation” size, which meant that it fit a tiny female bottom. “She slept better last night.” Cole deftly lifted the baby’s legs—he was getting good at this—wiped the strategic spots, and then put the soiled cloth in the basket by the side of the small bed. “I thought so too.” In answer to the praise, little Flora gave a small chortle and gazed at him with wide, blue eyes. Damn if he couldn’t help himself, he smiled back. That first grin, he’d been there for it, holding her one restless night, trying to give Victoria at least an hour or two of sleep, and he’d sat down and rocked the tiny little human being that had come into their household, and she’d…laughed. It had been nothing but a gurgle but definitely accompanied by a toothless grin. Like a complete fool he’d woken everyone. Good God, when did a man become such an idiot that a baby smiled and he had to shout it to the world? Well, maybe the minute he’d become a father.

Kate Watterson

She looked, in fact, exactly like her mother, from her fair—at this point wispy—curls, to the shape of her nose. Maybe, just maybe, he thought he saw a hint of himself in the cheekbones and the shape of her eyes, but he had the feeling Robert and Jace imagined the same thing. It didn’t matter. She was his daughter—and theirs—from the tip of her shining head to her small wiggling toes, but unfortunately at the moment, she seemed to be very wide awake in the middle of the night. “Thought I heard something.” Robert wandered in, bare-chested, rubbing his jaw, his hair rumpled. “Need help?” “Don’t think so.” Cole dubiously eyed his handiwork, decided he’d done a pretty good job and picked Flora up to cradle her in his arms. She smelled sweet, like milk and talcum. “I could stay up with her. The north herd can wait. We’ve a week to move it at least.” Jace leaned against the doorway. “I don’t mind missing the sleep. I’ll take the watch.” “This is hardly a situation that requires a watch.” Victoria, gloriously disheveled and looking tired but indulgent, came into the room, lifted the baby from Cole’s arms, and swept them all a look. “Might I note, none of you can feed her. Besides, though I appreciate the help, you all spoil her. If you rush over to pick her up the instant she makes a sound, she’ll never sleep through the night. Go back to bed.” All three of them deserved the scolding. How was it, in a household that should be dominated by men, one small female had turned it all upside down. Cole did stop to stoke the fire, both out of consideration and a certain sense of selfishness. He wanted the room to be warm, but he also loved to see how Victoria settled into the chair by the hearth, lowered her nightdress, and adjusted

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the child at her breast. A veil of golden hair brushed the babe’s cheek as she bent over and began to sing in a very sweet, soft tone. He lived for these moments. And he wasn’t the only one. When he straightened to leave the room as quietly as possible, he found that both Robert and Jace were in the doorway. The three of them said nothing to each other but watched as their daughter eagerly fed, and then gradually fell asleep. Outside was still bitter in the grip of a late spring chill, the ground frozen and the white-capped peaks in the distance sure to keep their snow for several months. In this place, though, Cole thought, it was warm. As a true home should be.

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About the Author

Kate Watterson also writes award-winning historical romance as Emma Wildes. She has a secret love for Westerns and grew up in New Mexico, but now resides in the Midwest with her husband and a very eccentric cat named Poot. Visit her at www.katewatterson.com.

Look for these titles by Kate Watterson (writing as Emma Wildes)

Now Available: Riding West Lawless Face of the Maiden

To win the woman of his dreams, Parker takes matters into his own hands. And finds out the West is wilder than he ever imagined!

Riding West

© 2007 Emma Wildes Just take her. The advice seems radical, but Parker West is desperate. Try as he might, he cannot convince Celia Evans to marry him in the usual way, even after five years of courtship. Kidnapping her is drastic and rash, but he figures he has little left to lose. Even though Celia is furious at being summarily tied up and carried off to the mountains, she finds she likes the sparks that fly when the normally cool Parker shows his more assertive side. At his secluded cabin, she finds out exactly what it means to be a woman, and that what she fought against all along is true: Under his normally reserved exterior, Parker is the lover of her dreams. And when riled, he can give a girl a very wild, intensely pleasurable ride. But there’s a range war simmering, and the threat on the horizon takes the form of one very vindictive, crooked rancher. He wants Celia all to himself—and will stop at nothing to get her… Enjoy the following excerpt for Riding West: The flask hung suspended in his fingers. Parker watched, fascinated and incredulous, as the woman in front of him calmly let her dress slip off her creamy shoulders. It worked! He wasn’t good at bluffing, or at least he didn’t think he was, but this outrageous gamble had actually paid off. The very idea Celia believed he’d force

himself on her was a little insulting, but then again, he’d done his best to convince her he would. When her mother had come to visit his folks a few days ago and taken him aside, he’d been a bit humiliated when she’d brought up his ill-fated marriage proposal. Mrs. Evans had diplomatically discussed a more straightforward approach with her independent and headstrong daughter. He’d listened, too, frustration, both emotional and sexual, making him open to any suggestion. Even this drastic one. If Celia ever discovered her own mother was the one who told him to just take her off somewhere and be a little more persuasive in a physical way, she would be livid. On the other hand, he was grateful as hell. In a few moments shoes, stockings and petticoats were also in a heap on the floor. A telltale flush of embarrassed pink in her smooth cheeks, Celia stood in her thin cotton shift and lifted her chin. Her long-lashed eyes, so lovely and blue, showed her usual challenge. “I thought you were going to undress.” His mouth had gone entirely dry and Parker swallowed, remembering his role as forceful abductor with difficulty. When he spoke, his voice sounded hoarse. “You aren’t finished. Take it all off.” Her upper teeth sank into the softness of her lower lip, but she didn’t look away as she pulled free the ribbon at her bodice. The material gaped open, exposing the tantalizing swell of high, full breasts. Celia eased the garment down her arms and over the curve of her slim hips until it pooled at her feet and she was completely naked. All he could think was that in his entirely male fantasies about this particular moment—and he’d had plenty—he hadn’t done her justice. Her skin was flawless ivory, her limbs long and supple, and her firm breasts had a lush

ripeness in comparison to the slender dip of her waist and length of her legs. He couldn’t help but stare, his heated gaze examining the soft rose of perfectly shaped nipples and then slipping lower, to the small dark gold triangle at the juncture of her thighs. “Oh my God,” he said involuntarily. Her blush intensified, turning her cheeks scarlet. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said tartly. “So you should, sweetheart.” With effort, he lifted his gaze back to her face and repeated, “So you should. You are more than beautiful, Celia.” “Thank you.” Her slim throat rippled as she swallowed. “But quite frankly, Parker, I’ve never stood in front of anyone in my life without a stitch on and it isn’t exactly fair you’re still fully dressed.” He was rock hard already, his cock so stiff it felt like he was going to burst out of his jeans. Considering her innocence, she was about to get an eyeful, but he was more than happy to oblige. Her easy acquiescence was a little unexpected, for he’d thought she would be more resistant, but who was he to argue. He stood and swiftly unfastened the gun belt around his waist, setting it on the table before he went to work on his shirt. “Let your hair loose.” There was a brief flare of irritation in her gaze over the autocratic tone of his voice, but she complied. When she lifted her arms to untie the ribbon, her lush breasts rose and quivered slightly in provocative invitation. He tossed his shirt on the floor and fairly jerked off his boots. Stifling a groan when he opened his jeans, he pulled them down his hips and stepped free. Celia made a small noise—a swift inhale of breath—and she stared at the rampant length of his erection, swollen and high against his stomach. “My enthusiasm over being here with you is darned obvious, isn’t it?” He moved toward her in a long, slow step, not wanting to scare her to death. “I’m

pretty much this way every time I’m around you and it isn’t the least bit comfortable, I promise you.” She looked startled, her gaze traveling from his stiff penis up to his face. “You are? Why didn’t you tell me?” That question was so illogical, he had to laugh. “What exactly was I supposed to say?” “You never even tried to do more than kiss me once or twice.” She actually sounded a little miffed over it. “Of course not. A decent man isn’t supposed to take advantage of a woman who isn’t his wife.” Her hair was a curtain of shimmering gold down her back, the tumbled curls reflecting the firelight and framing the delicate features of her face. Dark blond brows rose but she didn’t step away when he reached for her. “Then perhaps you’d better put your pants back on, Parker West, for in case you’ve forgotten, we’re not married.” “We will be.” He pulled her close and cut off her undoubtedly caustic reply by lowering his head and capturing her mouth. The sensation of her nude body pressed against his was more intoxicating than anything he’d ever experienced, her lips warm and soft. She was right, he hadn’t done more than attempt a few chaste embraces, mostly because he wanted her so damned bad he didn’t trust himself to stop when he should. When he exerted gentle pressure and she complied and parted her lips, his tongue slipped between and he felt the jerk of her surprise as he began to explore her mouth. He was both relieved and pleased she’d obviously never been kissed so intimately, for he certainly wasn’t the only man dangling after the gorgeous Miss Evans by a long shot. She was generally considered the most beautiful girl for

hundreds of miles in this section of Colorado, and her three brothers and formidable father kept a pretty close eye on any man that came sniffing around. Luckily, Parker was good friends with the whole family, otherwise he could count on them wanting his blood for what he was doing right at this very minute. When he’d talked to Celia’s father before his doomed proposal, Gerald Evans had welcomed the idea of him as a future son-in-law. Her tongue tentatively touched his as she responded, and the palms of her hands slid over his bare chest upward, so she could clasp her arms around his neck and press against him tighter. Parker was pretty sure at that moment he had died and gone to heaven. He broke the kiss, the throbbing in his cock and the ache in his testicles making him wonder just how long he would actually last once he was inside her. He kissed the fragile line of her jaw, the small hollow beneath her ear, and whispered, “Let’s get into bed.”