Chapter 7

Jake tossed the cloth to the floor and closed his eyes, sickened by his own actions. He never should have touched her. Not with anger ruling his body.

What had begun as punishment for her reckless behavior had quickly turned to dark, ruthless lust.

He’d wanted to claim her. Mark her has his. Make sure no man would ever touch her as profoundly.

He’d succeeded beyond his dreams.

He lifted a hand to caress and soothe her but stared at the darkness of his skin as it hovered above her delicate, pale shoulder.

Her breaths were jagged, and tears choked her voice. He’d done that. While everything inside him urged him to lie down beside her and take her in his arms, he held himself away. He’d done enough damage this night.

“I’ll go.”

“Oh, Jake. I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one who needs to apologize.”

She looked over her shoulder, her glassy gaze boring into his. “Untie me,” she said quietly.

He reached over her and untied the knots at her wrists.

No sooner was she loosed than she rolled toward him, coming up on her knees. She flung her arms around his shoulders and buried her face against his chest.

Jake closed his arms around her and hugged her close, rubbing his hands over her back.

Her lips opened on his collarbone, and she kissed him. “It didn’t hurt that bad,” she whispered.

“Of course not. You cry every time a man makes you happy.”

“It wasn’t the pain that made me cry.”

He breathed deeply, hope flaring inside his tight chest. “Why then?”

“Because I’ve never been so…overcome. I felt too much,” she kissed him again. “I’m going to hate for this to end.”

“Does it have to? Do you have to go back?”

She grew still inside his arms. “Are you asking me to stay?”

Jake was tired of looking at the top of her head. He gripped her hair and tugged, tilting back her head. “Yeah. I’m asking.”

Her gaze searched his face. “I know we hardly know each other, but is this all you want from me? I have to know.”

“Being with me won’t be easy,” he said. “The folks in this town are good for the most part. But they might give you a hard time, because of me.”

“Because you’re part Indian?”

“And part outlaw.”

“But they respect you.”

“They respect a gun. They needed mine when the last sheriff decided to ranch. I was all they had.”

“Are you trying to talk me out of staying?”

“Hell no. I’m just warning you.”

“Jake, I’m stronger than I look. And not nearly as na?ve as you think.”

“You wrote that book, didn’t you?”

Prudence wrinkled her nose. “How’d you guess?”

He snorted again, a satisfied smile stretching his lips. “That Katrina couldn’t keep her eyes off my manly chest.”

A grin stretched her lush mouth. “Neither can I.”

“This is the good part, you know. The sex. The getting to know each other…that might not be as easy.”

“I’m willing to stay. To try.”

He swallowed. “All right, then. But you have to promise me a couple of things.”

A smile started at the corner of her lush lips. “Anything.”

“Don’t say that before I even tell you what you have to do.”

“I trust you.”

“Even after what I did?”

“After what you did?” Her brows furrowed. “Do you think I didn’t like that?”

“I hurt you.”

“Sure, you did. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t like it.”

“I made you cry.”

“That’s because it hurt so damn good. Can we do it again some time?”

Jake snorted, still not believing her. “Just don’t get me mad like that again. I can’t seem to keep my hands off your backside when you do.”

“Honey, I’m afraid that’s one promise I won’t want to make.”

Her lips slid into a wider grin, and Jake couldn’t resist their invitation a second longer. He dipped his head and kissed her, mashing lips and teeth together.

“Did you like me warming your backside?” he growled when he came up for air.

“Well, it’s not something I’d like every day of the week. I’d never want to sit down.”

“But you liked it.”

“Yeah, it made me feel everything more deeply. Guess that’s why I cried.”

He brushed her lips with another swift kiss, then leaned away. “Are you going to be in a hurry for me to say some things to you?”

A shadow crossed her face, but she didn’t look away. “It’s okay if you don’t love me yet.”

Relief, sharp and swift filled him. When it came to saying it, even thinking it, he thought he might be down-right yellow-bellied.

Suddenly, her eyes widened, and she stiffened in his arms. “Jake, I forgot to tell you something. About tomorrow morning—”

“This another scene from your dime novel?”

“Yes, at the end of the story there’s this big—”

Jake pressed his finger to her lips. “Sorry, sweetheart, but you aren’t interfering again. Besides, I have better ways to keep that mouth of yours occupied ’til dawn.”

“But—”

“Tell you what. You can tell me later. Before I leave.”

Prudence blew out a deep breath, her worry apparent in the depth of the frown wrinkling her forehead and the thinning her full lips. “Promise you’ll let me tell you before you go?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Then he rolled over her, stretching his body over hers, noticing once again, how well they seemed to fit. Chests rubbing together as if breathing the same breath, his cock settling naturally between her spreading thighs, her liquid arousal easing his forceful entry.

Her gaze met his—hers glittering with wide-open wonder and trust to his tarnished but growing hopeful glimpse into his future.

Yeah, they were a perfect fit.

Prudence awoke as the sunlight climbed over the windowsill and screamed. Jake had left—and he hadn’t heard a thing about the bank, because she’d fainted dead away the last time they’d made love.

She rolled to her side but got caught in the tangle of her arms. The bastard had tied her to the bed again!

No damn way was he going to walk into a bullet if she had the means to stop it. She rolled her hips, tucking her legs against her chest, then reached up with her feet to shove at the upper rail of the headboard.

The brass didn’t budge on the first try or the second but went flying when she gave one final, breathless slam, and she was free.

Prudence couldn’t get the knots free from her wrists, so she wound them around and around her wrists, tucking in the edges, then scrambled to find a decent dress among the several he’d torn from their hooks last night and tossed on the floor. What did a few wrinkles and footprints mean when your man was facing certain death?

Only she had to remind herself his death wasn’t really so certain. She’d left the ending with a delicious ellipsis—three little dots that told the reader they’d learn the hero’s fate in the next edition.

Why had she been so greedy? Why hadn’t she satisfied her readers with a happy ending? Satisfied herself with the ending she knew she would have written—Jake and Katarina riding off into the sunset together? Or at least the little white church at the end of the main street to be married?

Stuffing her bare feet into her little half-boots, she fled the room, not bothering to lock the door after herself.

As she passed Mr. Pendergast’s desk, she yelled, “What time is it?”

“Just a couple minutes to ten,” he said, his eyebrows rising as she didn’t bother to slow down on her way out the door.

Almost ten! Lord, she was going to be too late. She took off at a run, her feet lifting high, running fast, and noticing the wind whistling through the back of her dress.

So she’d forgotten a button or two! Let them gape. She had to get to Jake. Stop him from entering that bank.

She rounded the corner of the main street and saw the bank sitting kitty-corner across the street from the saloon when shots rang out.

Shouts came from inside the bank, but she couldn’t stop herself. Katarina wasn’t shot. No one but the sheriff fell beneath the hail of bullets.

Prudence ran faster, the pain burning her side not nearly as sharp as the one tightening her chest.

The horses tied to the hitching post at the front of the bank hadn’t stopped rearing up on their hind legs or giving their panicked whinnies when she tore open the door of the bank and rushed inside.

A man grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back against his chest.

Prudence jabbed his shin with her heel, turned slightly, and rammed her fist between his legs. Only he stepped to the side, too, and her fist hit granite muscle. Pain radiated up to her elbow.

Again, strong arms enfolded her. “It’s all right. Shhhh…sweetheart. Stop fighting me. It’s me. I’ve got you.”

Jake’s gentle crooning finally penetrated her panic, and Prudence slumped against his chest. “Jake? You’re all right?”

“Not a scratch. Can you stand on your own if I let you go?”

The blood that had drained from her head came back with a rush as she turned. Her fist came up, and she punched him straight in the jaw.

Muffled laughter sounded behind her, but she didn’t care. “You read my book!”

“Said I would,” he said, with a crooked smile, rubbing his reddening jaw.

“You read my book!” she repeated and stomped her foot. “You let me think you didn’t believe me.”

“I didn’t. Not really. But I read it anyway. So did Billy,” he said, nodding to the man standing over two bandits lying on the floor with their hands behind their heads. “We met at the office this morning and decided to set a trap…just in case.” His eyes narrowed and raked down her body. “How’d you get untied?”

She raised her fists, shaking them, showing him the fabric still tied to her wrists. “I didn’t, and I’ll punch you a second time if you ever tie me up again.”

Jake’s slow grin stretched across his face. “You know, everyone in town’s gonna know I tied you to your bed now.”

She lifted her chin. “Guess you’re going to have to make an honest woman of me.”

“Guess I will.” His gaze softened. “Promise me one thing.”

Prudence swallowed, her anger draining away beneath the warmth of his gaze. “What?”

“Promise me, you won’t ever write about me again.”

“Afraid of my talents, Sheriff?”

“Choose someone more deserving of your skill, sweetheart,” he said, his tone dry as dust, “like the James Gang or the Younger Brothers.”

She canted her head. “What if I turn my talents to writing a more romantic tale?”

“Then make sure your hero has the kind of wife he has to tip over his knee every once in a while,” he drawled.

Prudence’s glance slid away for a moment, and then she gave him a blazing “Katarina” smile—the kind that knocked her hero sideways and left him breathless—every time.

Jake’s breath caught. His gaze locked on her lush mouth.

Prudence continued to smile inwardly, brilliantly, as Jake drew her close for a kiss. She knew exactly the sort of tale she’d tell in the sequels—all with happy-ever-after endings— after many roller-coaster near-mishaps .

After all, a good story deserved a hint of danger, a strong hero—and a bold heroine. Katarina wasn’t the only woman with a blazing sense of adventure or a lust for a legend.