The Negotiated Marriage. Christina Rich

cigars.

      A stone settled in the pit of his stomach and he jerked his hand back, his fingers snagging in her hair. He was surprised that she didn’t cry out like he’d expect ladies to do when having their hair pulled.

      He turned onto his knees and grabbed hold of her shoulders and began to shake her. Warm, sticky residue seeped through her gown, oozing against his hand. He eased his hand back, knowing what he’d find. That stone in his stomach began to mull around like boulders tumbling from a mountaintop. Blood spread from her shoulder and down the sleeve of her gown.

      “Duncan Murray, you’re as black-hearted as they come and you’ve done a lot of rotten things, but ye never shot a lassie afore,” he told himself. He’d never shot anyone outside of the war.

      He glanced around the small cove to see if Hamish had followed by land, but only drab gray trees waiting for their spring coats to sprout lined the river banks. The old man was nowhere to be seen. Rusa Valley lay east half an hour’s ride by horseback. A well-worn path to the west would take him back toward Hamish and the hopes of shelter.

      Duncan stood to his feet, the ferry rocking beneath them. Scooping her into his arms, he settled her against his chest, her head resting in the crook of his arm. The warmth of her breath filtered through the cotton strands of his soaked shirt, singeing his skin.

      He stepped over the ledge, onto the bank and then readjusted her. Her arms snaked around his neck, causing his pulse to thunder. The clanging of bells, much like the ones alerting a town to a fire, roared in his ears, warning him he trod dangerous territory. He should just lay her right down on the muddy bank, forget about Hamish’s offer and hightail it back to Topeka. Perhaps leave Kansas altogether, especially given the certainty the feel of her in his arms would never leave his memory.

      This woman had managed to steal his wits. One touch of her left him rattled, ready to jump in his father’s wastrel footsteps. In his father’s case, married to one woman, his mind on another. Several others.

      He ducked beneath the limb of a tree and came face-to-face with the end of a revolver and the barrel of a rifle. The revolver clicked as the mechanism slid back. He eyed the two women pulling a bead on him, and he nearly dropped the woman in his arms. The piercing dark eyes and matching scowls told him all he needed to know. These women were all sisters.

      “How many more of you are there?” he asked.

      The shorter one narrowed her eyes. “You railroad men have tried all sorts of things to get our land, mister.”

      “Kidnapping isn’t one of them,” the taller one added.

      “Railroad man? Kidnapping?”

      What did the railroad have to do with these women? Weston had briefed him on the latest plans to build the iron road through the county only days ago through the middle of Rusa Valley, and this bit of land was far from it. Before asking what they meant, the shorter one let out a high-pitched scream as she removed her finger from the trigger. “You shot Camy!” She whipped her head around and faced the taller sister. “He shot Camy.”

      He glanced down at the woman in his arms. Almond-shaped eyes rested in a sun-kissed, heart-shaped face. Her bow-shaped lips were slightly parted. Her dark curls formed a pillow for her head against his arm, and he couldn’t help imagining gazing upon her beauty every day for the rest of his life and calling the name that suited her.

      “Cam—Cameron Sims?” Dread curled in his stomach, pounding like wild horses in his head, and he nearly dropped her. So much for her not being Hamish’s relation. So much for her not being the woman Hamish wanted him to marry. Everything in him told him to get away from her as fast as he could.

      Her lashes fluttered and then opened. A pool of warm cocoa with flecks of gold blinked up at him, laced with pain. She blinked again. “You rescued me.”

      “Not exactly,” he snapped, ashamed of his actions causing her need to be rescued.

      Her eyes grew wide at his terse response, and at the moment he wasn’t apologetic. He’d been a fool to follow Hamish out here with the promise of a home worthy of Scotland only to be swindled into marriage by a conniving old man. The woman in his arms was far from homely.

      Her mouth opened and closed as if she wanted to say something. Instead she raised her head and looked from one sister to the other and back to him. She started to push against his shoulders and groaned in pain. Eyelids falling, her head fell and dangled over his arm. His protective instinct had him rolling her closer into him. The curve of her cheek resting against his chest.

      The sisters lowered their weapons and rushed toward them.

      The taller of the two sisters probed Camy’s wound. “Is this her only injury?”

      Duncan shrugged. “It’s the only one I see. However, she was washed down the river.”

      “You shot her. And you tried to drown her just like the last prospector promised to do,” the younger sister accused as she jammed a fist on her hip.

      Duncan’s pulse skipped a beat. Someone had threatened her? A man claiming to work for the railroad? A man Duncan’s money helped pay wages to? No wonder she’d been adamant about him leaving. Now wasn’t the time to be interrogated by this younger sister, nor was it the time for him to ask questions. Camy needed medical attention, and quickly. “If I meant to drown her I wouldn’t be carrying her, now, would I?”

      The sister inspecting Camy for injuries glanced at the shorter one. “You best get Dr. Northrop.”

      “I don’t like it, Ellie.” The shorter one looked over Duncan from head to toe and back again, before resting on her injured sister. “If any further harm happens to either one of my sisters, you’ll regret it, mister.”

      “Ye need not worry, Mara Jean.” Hamish stepped from the shadows and over a log. “He’ll not be causing harm to his future bride.”

      Obviously Hamish sought Duncan’s protection for his family, but that didn’t mean hot anger didn’t boil in Duncan’s blood at being manipulated. If Hamish had been truthful about his intention of Duncan marrying Camy from the start, Duncan never would have left Topeka, and she wouldn’t now be suffering from a wound in her shoulder.

      The sisters spun around, their faces white as snow.

      “What have you done, Hamish?” Ellie held up her hand. “Never mind. We’ll hear the tale soon enough. Come along, let’s get Camy home.”

      “Northrop won’t be too happy when he finds out about this.” The younger sister giggled.

      Camy flinched and curled tighter against him. Her eyes once again opened, pooling with tears. Tears caused by the wound in her shoulder, when she hadn’t cried before? Had she heard Hamish’s revelation? Or was it the mention of the doctor that caused her to seek his protection, a stranger? Either way, he didn’t like the lines of distress creasing her forehead and mouth. Somehow he couldn’t help wanting to play the knight in shining armor to this damsel in distress. After all, he owed her that much after shooting her. No matter how loud the warning bells clanged in his head, he wouldn’t leave her side until he was assured she was well, and then he’d be gone without a second glance. Before Hamish and his daughter convinced him a marriage of convenience held appeal.

      * * *

      “I won’t leave you.” She closed her eyes as the huskiness of Duncan Murray’s voice, colored with his accent, vibrated through her and curled her toes. “Unless you ask me to.”

      She gave her head a slight shake and then wrapped her arms around his neck as he followed Ellie up the path. Her behavior toward him had been monstrous to say the least, and yet he continued to offer her help. She’d almost be willing to slave over the fireplace and make him a month’s worth of dinners.

      The wall of his broad chest and his brawny arms reminded her of the days when her da had held her tight during a frightful storm, or when he’d taken her riding. Those days had been forever ago, before her mother had died, before he’d left her