Maverick Wild. Stacey Kayne

glanced at the lamp’s flame, so tempted to lower the ribbon into the bright light and be done with it.

       What the hell good will it do now?

      She was here, her big dark eyes full of sadness and shadows, tying him up in knots, just as they always had.

      And he was supposed to be nice?

      Chapter Three

      If a woman wanted something done right, she had to do it herself!

      Salina Jameson snapped the reins, picking up speed as the Morgan house came into view. Her buggy wasn’t moving nearly fast enough. She knew it was close to suppertime, and their household was likely busy. Didn’t matter.

      She wasn’t about to risk her claim on the man she’d been trying to seduce into her bed for the past year. Elusive devil he may be, but Chance Morgan was hers. The sooner he realized marrying her would end his troubles with the Lazy J, the sooner everything would work out best for all of them.

      She’d listened to Wyatt’s account of Chance’s retaliation as he’d moaned about his bruised ribs for over an hour, all before he’d casually mentioned the woman.

      Pretty young woman, he’d called her. Miss Tindale, he’d called her.

      Seething with rage, she snapped the reins again. How could Wyatt not see this woman’s arrival as a threat to their plans? Perhaps she was becoming too relaxed with him. She’d clearly have to set her affair with Wyatt aside for now. She had to keep her eyes on the real prize. Merging with the Morgan Ranch.

      The highwaymen calling themselves a cattle association were robbing her blind. By joining with the Morgans she would more than meet the land requirements to avoid their penalties. She’d save her ranch from ruin and gain a man worth having in a marriage bed. The mere thought sent a surge of arousal through her body as she guided her buggy into the yard. She paid no notice to the men stopping to glance at her from various corrals. She only wanted one man in her bed, for now.

      As she reined in near the house, Skylar’s younger brother rode toward her. Not too young, she thought, admiring the strong build of the young man as he reined in beside her. A sixteen-year-old was fine for passing some time, but not what was required in a husband. She needed a man who could intimidate those overlording cattlemen. There wasn’t a man who didn’t step aside when the Morgan brothers moved through the railhead stockyard.

      She needed Chance Morgan.

      “Afternoon, Mrs. Jameson,” Garret said, the spark in his eyes and kick of his smile assuring her she’d chosen the right gown. Black didn’t have to be basic.

      “Mr. Daines,” she said, giving him a coy smile. “Is your sister home?”

      “Yes, ma’am. I’d take you in, but Tuck’s waiting on me. Skylar will answer the door.” His horse sidestepped away. “Good day to you.”

      Not so far. She set the brake, stepped down from her buggy and strolled toward the two-story ranch house.

      Quite grand, she thought, crossing the wide porch to the double polished-oak doors. Surely Chance would want his own home, away from his brother’s family? Her home wasn’t nearly as large, but it was quaint and she was settled. She rapped her knuckles three times against the wood. Tugging off her gloves, she decided she was very anxious for a visit with her future sister-in-law, and her guest.

      The door opened and her gaze locked on an impossibly large belly.

      “Salina. What a surprise.”

      The poor dear! “Hello, Skylar. Aren’t you…”

      “Huge,” Skylar supplied, patting her round stomach.

      She couldn’t argue. She’d never seen a woman so heavy with child.

      “Twins,” Skylar said.

      Salina had always counted her inability to produce a child as a blessing—and was now twice as thankful.

      “What can I do for you, Salina?”

      “I heard there was another woman in the area, and I thought I’d pay a social call.”

      Her neighbor stared down at her in clear surprise.

      Salina couldn’t deny that she’d never been one to pay social calls in the past, at least not to women. But that was before they’d brought in a rival.

      “We’re in the midst of preparing supper.”

      “Oh, thank you, but I can’t stay to eat.” She stepped between the small gap of the door frame and Skylar’s belly and slipped into the house. “I just wanted to say hello and give a proper greeting.” She glanced around the large yet frightfully simple home. The bare tables and clunky furniture reminded her of a bunkhouse. The woman of the house clearly had no sense of fashion or style.

      Movement beyond the dining hall caught her attention. A rather plain woman with reddish hair walked toward them, wiping her hands on a white apron tied at her waist.

      This is my competition? Wyatt hadn’t mentioned the splash of freckles on the woman’s face or her sturdy build. Pleasantly plump, thought Salina. The woman’s drab gray smock and black dress were similar to that of Salina’s housekeeper’s.

      “You must be Miss Tindale.” She hoped.

      “Yes.”

      Salina glanced back at Skylar and awaited her introduction.

      “Cora, this is our neighbor, Mrs. Salina Jameson, owner of the Lazy J ranch, just beyond the east end of our valley.”

      Salina flashed her best smile. “Charmed.”

      “Likewise,” Cora replied.

      “Cora is such a lovely name.”

      “Thank you. My condolences on your loss,” she said, glancing at her diamond wedding ring.

      “It was a shame,” she said, releasing a mournful sigh. Catching his wife at the peak of passion with a ranch hand had been too much for her late husband’s elderly heart. Had she realized such a scene would divest her of him so efficiently, she wouldn’t have waited four years before seducing Wyatt in the parlor.

      “Shall we sit?” Salina asked, making her way toward the furniture.

      Cora glanced at Skylar’s perplexed expression as Salina Jameson made herself at home. The young widow flounced onto one of the chairs. Light chiffon ruffles fluttered around her, the black mass emphasizing her tiny waist. The dress could hardly be referred to as widow’s weeds, the stiff bodice barely covered the ivory mounds being pressed toward the woman’s dainty chin. A black bonnet secured a bundle of cascading brown curls.

      Cora followed Skylar to the adjacent sofa and offered her arm for support as Skylar leaned back. She felt a twinge of caution as she seated herself across from the woman watching her with calculating brown eyes. Salina sat on the edge of her chair, her hands folded in her lap, her posture impeccably straight, as though she might spring up at any moment.

      “So,” Salina said, her voice dripping with sweetness, “how do you know the Morgans?”

      “My mother was married to their father for a short time during our childhood.”

      “Oh, so you’re related?”

      “No blood relation, of course. Two years after our parents wed, their father perished in the war. Chance and Tucker have stayed dear to my heart.”

      “And now you’ve come to Wyoming to settle close to your brothers—how lovely. I think you’ll find your chances of finding a husband greatly improved. Men around these parts aren’t so choosy.”

      Cora looked into Salina’s perfect smiling face and felt as though she were back in her mother’s house. Skylar leaned forward in a rush, clearly picking up on the barb, but Cora knew this game all too well. “How reassuring,”