Ruthless Heart. Emma Lang

“Yes, please.”

      He had her off in seconds, depositing her on the hard-packed ground on very shaky legs. When Eliza started to topple over, Grady pulled her against him hard. The impact startled her, then the feeling of his body pressed to hers took her breath.

      Eliza looked up, and Grady pushed her hat back until they were eye to eye. His gaze moved to her lips, and she realized that although his mouth had touched her skin, they’d never kissed. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if they did.

      “Don’t look at me like you want me to throw you down on the street right here and now.” His voice was strained, and she felt his body harden, sending another shiver through her. He was so incredibly firm, more than any man she’d ever met. Most LDS men she knew were older and therefore soft around the middle.

      Grady was nothing like those men. He was slender but muscled from top to bottom.

      “I-I’m doing no such thing. My legs are stiff, that’s all.”

      He put his finger on her chin and rubbed his thumb across her lips. She resisted the urge to encourage his behavior, even as his touch excited her, made her want more.

      “Should we move before we attract attention?” She attempted to move away from him, but he held her firm. Since her legs were still full of pins and needles as the blood began moving through them, she was actually glad of the extra time in his arms. That’s what she told herself anyway, even if it were only a half-truth.

      “Don’t worry, Liz. We want people to think we’re married. If they do, folks are more willing to talk to us about things.” He studied her face as he spoke, likely trying to read her expression and figure out what she was thinking.

      “About things? Such as information we need?” She hadn’t thought of that possibility, but it was a definite advantage.

      “Exactly. You want to find someone, you have to blend in and make people trust you.” He cocked one brow. “You might not be a beautiful wife, but you’re a believable one.”

      The comment stung more than Eliza wanted to admit even to herself. She knew she was the plain, mousy dark-haired sister. A sharp contrast to the beautiful blond Angeline. She didn’t need a reminder from a hunter like Grady, even if he meant it to be informational rather than cruel. However, it completely destroyed her current fascination with his lips and the close proximity of his body.

      This time, she stepped away from him and forced her legs to work, pain tucked away until she had the time to handle it. Eliza had become very adept at putting things into separate places, particularly pain, anger, and hurt. She could not allow them to show or things could always get worse, and had.

      “If you plan on posing as my husband, we should continue on with purchasing supplies and a meal.” She brushed at the dirt on her clothes. “It would be nice if there were a place nearby I could wash away some of the travel dust.”

      He held out his arm. “Then let’s find what we need, Mrs. Wolfe.”

      Mrs. Wolfe.

      The very idea made a chuckle burble up in her throat. The man was hired to hunt her sister and drag her back to the bastard she’d run from. Eliza was there to rescue Angeline and stop Grady Wolfe from collecting his bounty.

      Mrs. Wolfe indeed.

      “Of course, let’s proceed with our tasks.” She took his arm, ignoring the silly way her heart fluttered at the gentlemanly gesture. It was all false, and she had to remember that. It wouldn’t do for Eliza to confuse reality with a lie.

      “You might want to tone down that fancy talk while we’re in town. Folks don’t usually take to people who are too different from them. You sound like a schoolmarm who spent her life in books.”

      “Well, I have spent my life in books, or at least half of it. And I’m not a schoolmarm.” The very idea of wanting her to sound dumb insulted her, and the pride she’d already tucked away came roaring back. “You want me to sound unlearned?”

      “Yep, think you can do it?” He stared hard, as if challenging her to tell him she couldn’t, to quit and walk away.

      Eliza wasn’t giving up that easy.

      “I know I can do it. All I have to do is sound like you.”

      She swore she heard him swallow a chuckle, but he didn’t respond with words. Satisfied she’d gotten some of her dignity back, she walked stiff legged next to the man she was now going to pretend was her husband.

      It seemed the universe had a sense of humor.

      People never asked Grady why he did what he did, likely because they were afraid of him or his answer. Truth be told, he wouldn’t know exactly what to tell them if they did ask. He’d always done whatever he needed to survive. When he’d started hunting people for money, it had been just that to him—money.

      He buried what was left of his soul and his conscience at the ripe age of fifteen and faced the world alone. His natural skill for tracking developed into hunting, which ended up making his reputation.

      Grady felt nothing for the money he put in his pocket. It was pure survival, a task to complete that paid a hell of a lot more than plowing fields or slinging booze. He had only one vice, and he didn’t discuss that particular issue with anyone.

      As he walked down the street with Liz on his arm, people didn’t give him a wide berth as was the usual behavior. He didn’t ever remember a time when that happened. He’d been right about having Eliza on his arm. She gave him something he didn’t have—respectability. Without even trying.

      They stepped into the mercantile, and the smell of cinnamon washed over him. He closed his eyes against the memory that shifted deep inside, a tiny flash of his father and life before it had burned into cinders.

      “Looks as if the clothing display is, I mean, there’s the clothes. You can do what you need to while I shop over there.” She managed a tight smile and walked awkwardly toward the table laden with ladies’ fripperies. Eliza was sore and stiff, that was for certain, but it didn’t stop her from being bossy.

      Grady frowned at her retreating back as he recognized the fact she had somehow taken control of their time in town. It annoyed as much as it relieved him. In between his guns and her strange speech, they might run into trouble. She didn’t know a damn thing about getting out of trouble, but definitely knew how to find it.

      “Can I help you?”

      He turned to find an older man, balding on top with round spectacles perched on his hawklike nose. The sharp look in his brown gaze told Grady the man knew exactly who and what he was.

      “My wife needs some clothes. We need trail supplies, too. Coffee, flour, bacon if you’ve got it, apples, crackers, canned peaches, and whatever else she wants. Some ladies’ soap, too, something that smells good.” He looked over and spotted the ammunition. “And I need two boxes of bullets for a forty-five.”

      The shopkeeper glanced at Eliza, then looked back at Grady. “I take cash only. We don’t extend credit to strangers.”

      “That won’t be a problem.”

      The older man nodded. “I’ll get the goods together.”

      Grady walked over to Eliza as she peered at a purple dress. Her gaze was wide and her expression could only be called shocked.

      “Never seen purple before?”

      She shook her head. “I didn’t know this existed outside of wildflowers. What an incredible scientific wonder! Whoever dyed this fabric is very skilled at what they do.”

      Grady again wondered exactly what cave Eliza had been hiding in all her life. “How old are you?”

      “Hm? Nearly twenty-one. My birthday is October ninth.”

      Next week this woman-child would turn twenty-one. By the time he was that age, he’d already become hardened