Bounty Hunter's Bride. Carol Finch

She stared at him in wide-eyed dismay. “Am I to understand that you won’t marry me then?”

      Her voice rose steadily, drawing the attention of the other patrons in the restaurant. All eyes zeroed in on them, as if they were specimens under a microscope. Cale swore under his breath when the room became dead silent. Well, hell. So much for keeping rumors and speculations to a minimum.

      Cale draped his arm over the back of the chair and twisted sideways to address the attentive crowd. “My fiancée,” he announced, gesturing toward his flush-faced companion. Several startled gasps broke the silence. “Does anybody here have a problem with that?”

      Dozens of curious gazes swung to Sarah. Cale said, “Go ahead. Tell ’em, Miz Magnolia. Then maybe we can all get on with supper.”

      Her face turned crimson, but he had to give her high marks when she tilted her head to a proud angle and tossed her very radiant—and very convincing—smile around the room. “It’s true that Mr. Elliot and I plan to marry very soon.”

      More dead silence. Cale knew what the onlookers were thinking—the same thing he’d thought when she’d proposed to him. Why would a lady of obvious quality and refinement want to hitch herself to an unsociable half-breed gunfighter when she could take her pick from the cream of the aristocratic crop?

      To Cale’s amazement, Sarah defended him when the crowd of inquisitive patrons glanced distastefully at him. “Cale Elliot is my perfect match,” she declared with absolute certainty. “I am honored and proud to become his wife. In fact, there isn’t another man on the face of this earth who would suit me better.”

      Cale slumped back in his chair, as stunned as the rest of the owl-eyed patrons. She didn’t have to go that far. Why had she?

      Suddenly, folks were staring at him, as if trying to determine what hidden qualities she saw in him that they’d obviously overlooked. It made him squirm uncomfortably to be the subject of such deliberate concentration.

      Hanna smiled in amusement when the big, brawny bounty hunter shifted awkwardly in his chair. Her glowing accolades had unsettled him. Apparently he wasn’t accustomed to having his praises sung.

      Although Hanna had no idea what new stipulations he’d decided to place on the bargaining table, her opinion of him had escalated the moment he’d announced he wasn’t forcing her to share a wedding bed and that no money would exchange hands. No matter what he asked, she’d agree, she decided instantly. Well, short of shooting someone for him, that is.

      “Now that we’ve cleared the hurdle of announcing our engagement, what are these new stipulations?” she asked. “I…”

      Her voice evaporated when the buxom waitress set two platters of steaks, fresh bread, beans and fried potatoes on the table. Hanna glanced at Cale, anxiously awaiting his reply.

      He leaned forward, his whiskered face set in a serious expression. “I want you to pretend to be my loving wife for a month.”

      Hanna frowned dubiously. Maybe she’d been too hasty in complimenting him in front of the crowd. Had she just agreed to forgo one night of unwanted intimacy for an entire month of it? “I don’t understand what you’re implying.”

      Cale sighed audibly. “Look, Miz Magnolia—”

      “The name is Sarah Rawlins,” she corrected tersely.

      “No, it isn’t. I’m not as ignorant as I look. And until you trust me enough to divulge your real name it’s gonna be Miz Magnolia, so you better get used to it.”

      “Very well, Mr. Elliot,” she drawled excessively. “Now about these new terms.” So as not to appear overly apprehensive, she plucked up her knife and fork and began whittling away at the thick steak.

      “Here’s the deal,” he began, glancing around to ensure he wasn’t overheard. “I need a cover to track down my half brother’s killer. I recently learned that Otis Pryor has established a stronghold in Texas and he’s paid off the local authorities. If I ride in as a deputy marshal I’ll probably get my head blown off before I can serve a warrant for Pryor and his army of ruffians.”

      Good gad! He did want her to shoot someone for him. Hanna gaped at him in astonishment, her fork poised inches from her open mouth. “You want me to kill him when he least expects it?” she chirped.

      Cale camouflaged a bark of laughter behind a cough. Nonetheless, he drew considerable attention. “Hell, no. I plan to establish myself as a shopkeeper. I figure that with my knowledge of weapons I can pass myself off as a gunsmith, change my appearance and polish my manners so Pryor won’t be suspicious of my arrival in town. That’s where you come in.” He paused to take a bite of juicy steak.

      “Go on,” she encouraged him. “What’s to be my role in this scheme?”

      “You travel with me across Indian Territory with the wagonload of weapons to stock the store. During our journey I’ll teach you the skills you’ll need to survive in the West.”

      Hanna smiled agreeably. “I find no fault with that. I’m aware that I have a lot to learn if I’m to become as self-sufficient and capable as you.”

      “In exchange for my expertise, I want your expertise,” he insisted.

      She frowned, befuddled. “I have no expertise. Heavens, I’ve never been allowed to explore my potential talents.”

      Cale smiled at her and she felt a peculiar flutter in her chest. The man was almost attractive when he smiled, even with all that facial hair concealing his features. “You have more skills than you can imagine,” he said. “You possess the social graces and refinement I lack when it comes to fitting into society. I need to learn to fit in.”

      The way he said it touched her heart. She, because of her wealth and the prestige of her family name, had been automatically accepted. But Cale’s background and occupation made him a social pariah. It wasn’t fair, but Hanna had learned long ago that life wasn’t necessarily fair.

      “I’ll teach you to be a capable survivor if you’ll teach me to be a gentleman,” he continued. “Plus I’ll be your personal bodyguard during the trek through the wildest country you’ve ever encountered.” He stared at her grimly. “I won’t lie to you, Miz Magnolia. The journey through Indian Territory won’t be a Sunday stroll through the park. We’ll be traveling through rugged terrain. We’ll encounter bears, mountain lions and poisonous snakes—the worst of them being the two-legged variety. We’ll be camping out in the open most nights, subjected to inclement weather and possible attack. But you have my vow that I’ll protect you with my life, if you agree to this charade.”

      Hanna swallowed uneasily. He wasn’t painting a pretty picture here. Perhaps she’d been too hasty when she decided to head west to claim her independence. Maybe she should’ve lost herself in the bustling crowds of Philadelphia, Boston or New York.

      Yet this man claimed he’d take a bullet for her, if need be. Hanna had never experienced that brand of protective loyalty and devotion. Where she came from, her physical appearance—which she had nothing whatsoever to do with—elegant wardrobe, social status and wealth, drew empty pledges that were quickly given and hastily forgotten when an easier target and better opportunity arose.

      Hanna’s respect for Cale rose another notch. She had the instinctive feeling that she’d finally met a man she could trust not to betray her or forsake her. They would both benefit from this bargain. She’d have a private chaperon, a tutor and bodyguard to accompany her to Texas. He would benefit from her social skills and her charade as his wife while he investigated his brother’s death. Although Cale hadn’t offered the gory details surrounding his brother’s demise, this was vitally important to him—as important as her need for freedom.

      Cale wanted to ensure justice was served. Hanna didn’t blame him. She knew how much it hurt to lose a loved one, having lost her mother and brother—the two people in this world who actually cared about her. Having endured the heart-wrenching emotion of personal loss, Hanna had vowed never to let