LITMIR.BIZ

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Chapter 24

      Chapter 1

      Maverick, Wyoming 1894

      Blinding light rode into the room on an icy gust of wind and rudely reminded Reid Barclay that he couldn’t get rip-roaring drunk today. He shot a scowl at the newcomer who didn’t seem to have the sense to know they were letting out what little heat the potbelly stove could belch out.

      Damn, was he going snow blind? He blinked a couple of times just to make sure she wasn’t a mirage. Nope, nothing wrong with his eyesight.

      A lady stood silhouetted in the doorway, as if debating whether to come in or skedaddle. The answer was as clear as the big blue sky that stretched to the horizon.

      A lady had no business stepping foot in this hole.

      He ignored the inclination to stand up straight in her presence, preferring to hunker over his whiskey while she stood in the open doorway like an ice princess, gilded in white light and prim bearing—the exact opposite of what this place represented.

      Any second Reid figured she’d realize she was in a bawdy establishment that made its money satisfying men’s baser needs. Or in his case, trying to.

      “Is this Mallory’s Roost?” That sultry note in her voice was at odds with her prim appearance, putting lurid thoughts in his head that he had no call thinking about a lady.

      “Yep,” he said, in no mood to offer anything more.

      She gave a shudder, but instead of hightailing it like any lady with a lick of sense would do, she stepped inside and shoved the door closed. Besides the wind that howled a protest at being shut out, the only sound in the Roost was the crackle of the stove and Reid’s uneven breathing.

      This lady oozed quality in a hovel that wouldn’t know sophistication if it bit saloon keep Ian Mallory on his Irish ass. The tips of dainty black boots peeked from under her heavy tweed skirt. Fine-looking black gloves covered small hands that rested demurely at her sides. Her wrap hugged her narrow shoulders and didn’t appear near warm enough for these environs.

      He had just enough liquor under his belt to want to heat this lady up under a nice thick blanket. Dangerous thoughts for a man in his position.

      He let his gaze drift up to her face, and her inquisitive eyes and lush lips hushed his heart a measure. He couldn’t recall when that had happened to him last. To have a woman intrigue him so now—Hell, it was time for him to vamoose.

      He’d heard the train chug in five minutes ago, and knowing he had a passenger waiting had chased off thoughts of getting drunk. Not that drink would solve his problems. But sometimes a man just needed to drown himself and his troubles in a bottle.

      That would have to wait. It was time for him to collect Mrs. Leach’s friend and head back to the ranch.

      He would’ve too if that slight desperation he sensed in this woman hadn’t stayed him. He couldn’t pull himself away just yet, not until he found out why a young woman of quality would enter a grubby saloon.

      He finished off his rotgut, then almost choked on it as the sweet scent of lilacs drifted over him, tempting him to forget the promise he’d made. He didn’t have to look up to know the lady stood at his elbow, but he did anyway.

      Dammit to hell but the uncertainty he glimpsed in those big brown eyes of hers had him wanting to reach out to her and tell her whatever was wrong would be all right. He knew better now than to make such promises.

      He shot the lady a look that should’ve sent her running, but she hiked that pert little chin up as if telling him she wasn’t one to bluff. If that chin hadn’t trembled the slightest bit—Aw, hell, didn’t she know it was dangerous for a woman to come close to a lone man swilling whiskey—a man who was wallowing in old regret and new longing?

      “Was there a gentleman in here earlier?” she asked.

      “Not that I recall.”

      She frowned and bit her lower lip. “Perhaps he left before you arrived—”

      “I been here since yesterday, ma’am,” Reid said and scratched his knuckles over the stubble he’d not bothered scraping off this morning. “Plenty of cowpokes and the like have come and gone, but nary a gentleman has passed through those doors.”

      “I see,” she said, her mouth pinched in clear disapproval of his admission, and his appearance, if he guessed right. “Is the owner of this establishment here?”

      Reid nodded in Mallory’s direction, his curiosity hiking up another notch. “That’s him propping up the far end of the bar.”

      “Thank you.”

      Yep, no doubt about it. She was the embodiment of the vision that had tormented Reid’s dreams for as long as he could recall. True elegance with a throaty voice that hinted of naughty. So what the hell was she doing here?

      She

Скачать книгу