The Bounty Hunter and the Heiress. Carol Finch

Gordon Carter offhandedly then inquired if anyone knew him. She had discovered quickly that the passengers didn’t reside in Denver. They were passing through and no one had heard of the con man.

      Glancing this way and that, Raven decided to take advantage of the privacy and sink into the cool water. If nothing else, the quick bath eased his hangover and helped to curtail the inappropriate thoughts that hounded him after being nestled beside Eva in the coach.

      Watching her dip her hand into her bodice to retrieve her money intensified his unwanted awareness of her. Hell, even their lively debates stimulated his interest. She intrigued and aroused him all too easily. He didn’t want to like her or give her a second thought.

      This was going to be a very brief acquaintance, he promised himself. Wife indeed! That had bad idea written all over it. If his longtime associate, Hoodoo Lemoyne, and his only surviving cousin, Blackowl, got wind of this, they would laugh themselves into comas.

      The thought of Hoodoo Lemoyne, the crippled man who lived at Raven’s mountain cabin, while he tracked notorious criminals, made him grin. Raven hadn’t been able to get rid of that chattering Cajun any easier than he’d gotten rid of Eva.

      Raven just sort of inherited the gabby older man who had been his father’s acquaintance. In addition, Raven thought, now he had a pretend wife and she had more grit and gumption than most men he knew.

      Raven blew out his breath, shook off the cold water and dressed hurriedly. He hiked to the barn to watch the stage attendants trot out fresh horses. He glanced around the stalls but there wasn’t a chestnut gelding in sight.

      “Did you happen to see the man who left the carriage behind the station?” he inquired.

      “No,” the first worker replied. “I showed up for work this morning at seven and the buggy was already here.”

      “Same for me,” the second man chimed in. “You might ask the station owner. He’s around all the time.”

      The first worker surveyed Raven’s attire. “You’re Raven the bounty hunter, aren’t you?”

      He nodded.

      “Heard of you,” the man murmured. “Congratulations on your marriage. Your wife is one of the prettiest females I’ve ever laid eyes on. You must be proud.”

      Raven was no such thing. He was baffled by the newfound respect he’d acquired because of his association with Eva. The uncharacteristic chattiness from men who usually ignored him was difficult to grow accustomed to. Raven glanced toward the doorway of the station house where Eva was deep in conversation with the potbellied owner, who was only a few inches taller than she was.

      “She’s the prettiest female I ever laid eyes on, too,” he admitted.

      “How’d you meet her, if you don’t mind my asking?” the second attendant said interestedly.

      Raven smiled in wry amusement. “A young kid, a mutual friend, introduced us.”

      He pivoted around to amble toward Eva. He was ten feet away from her when the report of a rifle echoed around the rugged canyon walls overlooking the stage station. Raven reacted instantly. He lunged forward to hook his arm around Eva, forcing her to roll across the ground with him. The stage station owner yelped and leaped backward when the bullet whistled over their heads and thudded into the water barrel outside the door. Water dribbled into the dirt, leaving a puddle that could easily have been Eva’s blood.

      While Raven lay atop Eva, her lush body melded familiarly to his, she gaped at him in astonishment. He was surprised to note that curiosity, not fear, flickered in her chocolate-brown eyes.

      “Here’s another reason why being married to me is unwise. It puts you in harm’s way,” he murmured against her ear. “Criminals dislike me and so do their vindictive kinfolk. I might as well have a bull’s-eye painted on my back.”

      “How do you know that someone is shooting at you and not at me?” she retorted. “It could be Gordon. The stationmaster informed me that late last night he bought the buggy from a man who matches Gordon’s description. He bought a saddle and rode off on Lydia’s horse. Gordon would recognize me easily and I predict he would be anxious to have me off his trail.”

      Raven rolled sideways then pulled Eva up beside him. He kept her protectively behind him while he scanned the towering peaks that were rife with hiding places behind rocks and trees. Wherever the sniper was lurking, Raven couldn’t locate him. What’s more, it disturbed him to no end that he’d been so distracted and preoccupied with Eva that he wasn’t as attuned to his surroundings as he usually was.

      She was a liability he could ill afford. The sooner they parted company the better for both of them, he told himself.

      “You okay, ma’am?” the driver questioned—and Raven was quick to note the smell of whiskey on George’s breath.

      Eva adjusted her cockeyed hat and smiled reassuringly at George. “I’m fine,” she insisted as she dusted herself off.

      “This is one of the drawbacks of marrying a man who has a target on his back,” the driver slurred. “Somebody’s always gunning for him, I reckon.”

      “Then I’ll have to take extra good care of J.D., won’t I?” she murmured as she stared adoringly at him.

      Raven studied her blankly. He couldn’t recall anyone offering to take care of him. A moment later, he remembered that her comment was part of her act and he shrugged off the pleased sensation that had no business taking root.

      “Are we going to be ambushed again?” Delbert Barnes asked warily as he readjusted his drooping spectacles. “I haven’t begun my new job and I could be dead before I start.”

      “Relax, Delbert,” Raven said he as brushed off his buckskin breeches and black shirt. “Stay inside each station along the way or in the coach and you’ll be just fine.”

      Flustered, the little man fidgeted from one foot to the other, glanced apprehensively toward the stony peaks of the mountains then dashed headlong toward the coach.

      Raven had expected a reaction like that from Eva. She, however, was amazingly unruffled by her near brush with disaster. Another blossom of admiration unfurled inside him as he watched his pretend wife walk purposely toward the stagecoach. She halted halfway then turned to wait for him to catch up.

      “Surely you aren’t going to pick a fight with me so soon after I was nearly gunned down, are you?” she murmured as he strode up beside her.

      “No, but I’m leaving eventually so don’t think I’ve changed my mind,” he said gruffly.

      An impish grin spread across her bewitching face. “Of course not. I’m your proverbial pain in the ass.”

      “Exactly right and don’t you forget it.”

      And he better not, either.

      His tone wasn’t as sharp as it should have been, not if he hoped to convince her that he considered her a nuisance. To his dismay, she noticed the lack of intensity in his voice and looked excessively pleased with herself.

      “Help me into the coach, will you, darling? Being knocked off my feet during the ambush affected me more than I first thought. I feel a bit shaky.”

      Shaky? This ironclad daisy? Ha! Nothing shook her up that he could tell. Not his terse rejection, his intimidating threats or flying bullets. Raven gave his head a marveling shake as he assisted his wife into the coach.

      Wife? The word rang through his mind like a clanging gong. She was not his wife and she never would be, he reminded himself realistically. Let her have her fun while it lasted. By nightfall, he’d be long gone and she could track Gordon by whatever means available—as long as it didn’t include him.

      Raven continued to chant that mantra, even when she held his hand and smiled up at him so sweetly during the next leg of the journey. Eva? Sweet? He chastised himself for getting soft when she poured on the feminine