The Lawman Claims His Bride. Renee Ryan

his heart beat a single, heavy kick against his ribs. The room held little light and the air shimmered with a cold, gray foreboding. Closing the door with a firm click, Logan forced his vision to adjust. He dropped a cursory glance at the desk cluttered with piles of forgotten reports before focusing his attention on the lone occupant in the middle cell.

      Megan.

      With a fierce mental shake, he slammed shut the part of him that wanted to beat down the bars between them. He willed her to look at him but she didn’t acknowledge his presence.

      She appeared lost in thought, so small, so fragile. So…alone. Guilt pushed at him, mocking his attempt to think rationally. He’d waited five years to ask this woman to become his wife. He’d remained loyal to her in the face of every temptation San Francisco had to offer, and he’d done it without an ounce of regret. Until now. Now, as he stared at Megan’s bent head, he knew nothing but regret. Regret that he’d put off coming home for too long.

      For one brief moment, he savored the soft lines of her shoulders, the elegant tilt of her head and the wheat-colored curls spilling down her back. She held her shoulders stiff as she twisted her hands in her lap, rubbing them over one another again and again and again.

      Logan frowned.

      He’d seen her like this only one time before. The day Pastor Beau had told her of her mother’s death. Logan had fought the urge to steal her away back then, to rescue her from her grief.

      She’d been too young at the time. That’s what they’d said. Pastor Beau and her guardian, Marc Dupree, had insisted Logan step back and assess the situation like a man and not a “boy in love.” When he hadn’t backed off, Marc had threatened him, resorting to brute force to make his point. In the end, Logan had relented. For Megan’s sake, he’d allowed the others to sway his better judgment.

      A mistake.

      Now a row of impenetrable iron bars stood between him and the woman he loved.

      Logan balled his shooting hand into a tight fist. The urge to hit something, or someone, came fast, but he reminded himself he’d taken a different path than his brother. Still, a low growl of frustration rumbled deep in his throat.

      At the sound, Megan looked up and slowly turned her head.

      Their gazes melded.

      Logan’s heart pummeled his rib cage. The brutal assault made each intake of air a struggle.

      Lost in her eyes, a compelling tapestry of silver over blue, he experienced a deep sensation of completion. The emotion was so simple, so pure he wondered how he’d been able to walk away before.

      Well, he was home now.

      “Logan?” A little sigh slipped from her lips. “Is it really you?”

      “Yes, Megan.” He forced his words around the breath clogging in his throat. “I’ve come for you, just like I promised.”

      But had he returned too late?

      Chapter Two

      After two endless seconds Megan finally jumped up and hurried across the cell toward Logan.

      Hungry for this closer view, he clutched at the bars and strained forward. Just like it had five years ago, her beauty made his throat ache. Her hair still tumbled down her shoulders in golden waves, and her skin was as luminous as he remembered.

      But there were differences, too. Her features had become more mature, less rounded by youth. But her eyes—her glorious, sparkling eyes—were haunted now. Deep purple smudges shadowed the skin beneath. It was clear she needed food, sleep and tender care.

      A possessive urgency to see to those needs had him curling his fingers in a white-knuckle grip around the bars. Inhaling slowly, he forced his hands to relax and then reached for her.

      She smiled at him, shyly at first. Then, with growing confidence, she took a step closer and placed her fingers in his. Gripping his wrist with her other hand, she brought his open palm to her face.

      He cupped her cheek as gently as the barrier between them would allow. The contact eased the furious knot of tension in his stomach. But only for a moment. Old guilt warred with a new sense of regret, and Logan couldn’t say which hurt more to suppress. He clenched his teeth so hard a muscle jumped at his jaw.

      Suddenly, she staggered back a step. “Oh, Logan, I have to tell you—”

      The outer door burst open, cutting off her words.

      Heavy, purposeful footsteps approached from behind. Logan’s shoulders stiffened at the familiar sound. He’d know that clipped, efficient cadence anywhere.

      Frustrated at the interruption, he turned on his heel and came face-to-face with his former mentor. Trey Scott. The man who had trained Logan to think before shooting. The man who had recommended him for the U.S. Marshal position.

      The man who had locked Megan in a cold, dark cage.

      “Give me the key…Sheriff.”

      “Ah.” Trey hitched his hip against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “I see we’re dispensing with the pleasantries. Nevertheless, welcome home, Logan.”

      Logan swallowed back an angry response and forced out his words with precision. “As the newly appointed U.S. Marshal I have a duty to—”

      “I know your job description.” He gave Logan a meaningful look, reminding them both who’d held the position first. “But this is my jail now. And you’ll play by my rules.”

      Out of respect for all this man had done for him, Logan relented. For now.

      Changing tactics, he appealed to their history as partners and friends. “I saved your life when Ike Hayes was bent on destroying you. You owe me this one request.”

      “Logan,” Trey began, unfolding his arms and pushing to a standing position. “You need to understand the situation. You won’t be so ready to release her once you know the truth.”

      The truth? There was only one truth. Megan didn’t belong in a cold, impersonal jail cell.

      Logan had failed her once, by leaving town when he should have married her. He wouldn’t walk away again. Nor would he allow her to rot in a cage another hour, much less another day.

      “One thing in particular you should know.” Trey cast a look over Logan’s shoulder, sighed. “She—”

      “Explanations can wait. I want to speak with her first. Alone.”

      Trey’s lips compressed into a thin line. Logan knew the look well. Trey Scott was in an unrelenting mood.

      Well, so was Logan. He needed to be near Megan, needed to know she was truly safe. “You can lock me in with her.”

      Clearing his features of all expression, Trey glanced over Logan’s shoulder again. For a moment, he simply stared at Megan. A silent message seemed to pass between them before he focused on Logan once more.

      “All right.” He retrieved an iron key from his vest pocket. “You can have a few minutes with her. But then you’ll listen to what I have to say.” The last was not a request but an order.

      Unwilling to battle his longtime friend—yet—Logan nodded his agreement.

      “Now that we understand one another…” Trey lifted his hand.

      Logan snatched the key then turned toward the cell door. Before releasing the lock he glared at the other man. “Don’t you have something to do? Outside?”

      Unmoving, Trey lifted a single eyebrow. The gesture made him look like a protective father.

      Logan remembered the other men with that same look in their eyes. He remembered their resolve as they told him to stay away from Megan. She was too young, they’d claimed a hundred times over. He was too old. She was grieving her mother’s death. He needed to make a secure