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Trying to clear her brothers name of a wrongful murder charge, proud Yankee Ashley Webster hires Tanner MacTavish to pose as her husband for the wagon train ride that will take her to the West. Original.
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"I want you to let go of me," Ashley demanded. "You have no right to paw me. I'm paying you to be my husband in name only and that's the way it has to be."
"You little tease," Tanner snarled. "What in the hell am I supposed to think when you throw yourself at me? I should have left you to Slater. You appeared to enjoy his mauling. But I forgothe's a Yankee and I'm a dirty Reb."
"That's not why..." She bit her lip, afraid of what she'd blurt out. She was confused. Tanner's kisses made her yearn for more.
His bitter laugh sent chills down her spine. "If I didn't give my word that I'd see you safely to your destination, I'd light out of here so fast your head would spin. Go to bed before I forget I have some honor left and do what my body demands."
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Other Leisure books by Connie Mason: PURE TEMPTATION THE LION'S BRIDE SIERRA WIND RIDER TEARS LIKE RAIN TREASURES OF THE HEART A PROMISE OF THUNDER ICE & RAPTURE BRAVE LAND, BRAVE LOVE WILD LAND, WILD LOVE BOLD LAND, BOLD LOVE TEMPT THE DEVIL FOR HONOR'S SAKE BEYOND THE HORIZON TENDER FURY CARESS AND CONQUER PROMISED SPLENDOR MY LADY VIXEN DESERT ECSTASY WILD IS MY HEART
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Flame
Connie Mason
Page 4
A LEISURE BOOKS
January 1997
Published by
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc. 276 Fifth Avenue New York, NY 10001
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."
Copyright 1997 by Connie Mason
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
The name "Leisure Books" and the stylized "L" with design are trademarks of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
Printed in the United States of America.
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Prologue
Spring, 1866 St. Joe, Missouri
"Dammit, Captain, you're making life difficult for me. If I don't put you in jail the army will be on my back. Why in the hell did you pick my town to disrupt? The war is over; the South lost. If I can accept it, why can't you?"
Tanner MacTavish rubbed his bloody knuckles against his palm and sent Sheriff Beardsley a sour look. "The war may be over for you, Sheriff, but it will never end for me. After what the bluecoats did to my home and family I can barely stand to look at a Yankee without wanting to kill."
"I was warned to be on the lookout for you even before you arrived," Beardsley said. "The army won't stand for many more of your unprovoked attacks upon their men." His voice softened. "I know you, Captain, and always found you likable.
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I served under you in the war, but I'm sworn to uphold the law in St. Joe and you know I'm not one to shirk my duty."
Tanner sent Beardsley a look as bleak as his heart. A tall man with hair as black as sin, Tanner had sun-darkened skin, piercing gray eyes and a stubbly chin that gave the impression of a half-wild creature. His shoulders were vulgarly broad; his taut muscles were boldly prominent beneath his mismatched outfit of leather vest and gray Rebel army trousers. One glance was all it took to know that Tanner MacTavish was altogether too physical, too intense, too dangerous.
"Do what you have to do, Beardsley," Tanner said gruffly. "I'm sorry I picked your town but I had no idea you were sheriff when I rode in. Something snaps inside me whenever I see one of those devils in blue coats. I can't promise it won't happen again."
Beardsley snorted in disgust. "You can't take on the whole blasted army, Captain. If I don't keep you behind bars the townspeople will be up in arms, not to mention the army. I promised Lieutenant Pickford I'd keep you out of their hair until the final wagon train of the season departs and they go back to the fort. They don't want a firebrand like you running around attacking men simply because you can't tolerate the color of their uniforms."
Beardsley plucked the keys to the cell off the wall, opened the door and invited Tanner inside.
"You'd better give me your guns," Beardsley said, holding out his hand.
Tanner reached down, untied the laces securing his twin holsters to his muscular thighs, unbuck-
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led the belt containing two .41-caliber, double-action, fancy-cut Colt Lightning models and draped it over Beardsley's arm.
"Is that all?" Beardsley asked.
Tanner's inscrutable dark eyes glinted dangerously as he bent to remove a skinning knife from a hidden sheath in his right boot. "That's it." Since the sheriff didn't search him, Tanner saw no need to hand over the .38-caliber single-action Colt pocket revolver he carried in an inside vest pocket.
"Sorry, Captain," Beardsley said as he closed the cell door with a resounding metallic clang. "Reckon you'll have to cool your heels in here for a spell. It could go bad for you if the army decides to press charges."
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