When desire collides with danger, rope up and hang on for the ride.
Lady Victoria Mead cannot believe fate has been so cruel to her yet again. First, her father squandered the family fortune and died in the process. Now, her quest to secure a future in America has been foiled by an attack on her wagon train, leaving her alone and half-naked in the wilderness.
Her only hope lies in three outlaws who seem to have absolutely no idea what to do with the proper daughter of an English earl.
Ranching partners Cole, Jace and Robert can handle any threat with cool, swift precision. But when it comes to the gloriously lovely Lady Victoria, who seems to have no discernible survival skills, they’re in the dark.
Underneath Victoria’s fragile exterior lies an inner resilience they all come to admire—and a deep well of sensuality that tempts them to offer her a permanent place in their home, their beds…and their hearts.
Product Warnings
Strong sexual content, multiple partners, Western bad boys, Western bad language and some mild violence
Copyright © 2012 Kate Watterson
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication
The pall of the smoke, the eerie quiet and the carnage he was more than happy to leave behind. Cole Thune nudged his stallion and abandoned the wagon train massacre with relief.
“Damn,” Jace Vance muttered, his horse cantering alongside. In the midmorning sun, his young face looked pale under the brim of his hat. “That’s not something I’d care to see again.”
“Me either,” agreed the third member of their small party, his mouth set in a thin line as he rode on the other side. “Relatives of yours, Cole?”
Cole gave his friend a sardonic look. Few men had the nerve to make joking remarks over his half-breed heritage, and besides, Robert Forester knew full well Cole’s mother had been Lakota. “They didn’t leave any of their dead behind, so it’s hard to know what tribe might have attacked those poor devils.”
“No survivors.” Forester shook his head and squinted at the horizon where the sun had just come up. Incongruous to the carnage they had just witnessed, the morning was clear and beautiful with the sky deepening to a stunning pure blue and a cool, clean breeze now that they were moving away from the still-smoldering wagons. “Whichever bunch is so riled up, let’s move along so we don’t run into them.”
“Amen to that.” Though he’d seen his share of violence, Jace was younger than either of them and he looked grim and stricken. Even his usual lazy air and soft Texan drawl were in abeyance.
Cole felt a bit stricken himself by the graphic scene of violence and destruction, but he’d learned a long time ago to keep emotion under control. Anyone who decided to brave the West needed to realize it wasn’t the friendliest place, not by a long shot. He’d adopted the policy of looking ahead rather than regretting the past, and it had worked pretty well so far. “We should make decent time today. I’d guess we’ll reach the valley in less than a week.”
It was true—the open prairies had started to break up, and rolling hills and small groves of trees now spotted the landscape. Soon they’d see the glory of the Rockies, but there were still quite a few miles to go before they got to the ranch.
He couldn’t wait. He had the deed in his pocket, and it was tied up tight and legal. No more drifting, no more riding a grub line and God help him, no more bloodshed and dodging the law. Years passed, names became obscure, even one as infamous as his with a little luck.
They rode on until thankfully the scent of burnt cloth and wood faded and the sun inched a bit higher. It was warming up, he noticed with a grimace, and was probably going to be a scorcher later on.
“Hey, Cole, Rob, what in the hell is that?”
He glanced in the direction of Jace’s pointing finger and frowned. They’d just ridden over a small ridge and at the bottom was a vale with a cluster of cottonwoods and a tiny stream. Something white showed through the underbrush, and as they urged their horses closer, it became evident that someone was there, lying under a small bush.
A woman, Cole realized incredulously as he pulled up, swung out of the saddle in a quick motion and went over. It had to be from the mass of golden hair spilling over the grass. As his companions dismounted, he knelt down beside her limp form.
She was half-naked, the garment loosely draping her slender body torn almost to her waist, and the part of the thin material that did cover her was damp with morning dew, leaving little to the imagination. She breathed, Cole could see it from the lift of her full breasts, the opulent flesh quivering as her chest rose and fell. Pale, wet, with her sticky lashes on her porcelain cheeks and her lissome body barely covered, she was like some sort of bizarre erotic mirage.
What every man might dream of, Cole thought as he looked at her. A gorgeous, almost-nude woman in the middle of literally nowhere. They hadn’t passed a town in days.
For a long moment, none of them spoke, the two other men peering over his shoulder. Cole had a hard time finding anything to say. Finally, Robert murmured, “Jesus. I’ll be damned.”
“I’ve always thought so,” Cole muttered. “Me too, I suppose.”
“That’s the truth.” Robert gave a small snort. “But I meant, what is she doing here?”
“The wagon train, I reckon.” Jace rubbed his jaw. “I’m surprised she got away, and how in the hell did she get this far? I bet we’ve come five miles.”
“Is she hurt?”
“Hard to tell.” Cole realized they all were staring at her bare breasts. He appreciated a shapely woman as much—if not more—than the next male, but she was not even awake, and as cynical as he had become, he felt guilty for looking at her. Tentatively, he reached out and touched her shoulder. “Miss?”
She wasn’t deeply unconscious, for she stirred a little and a moment later her eyes opened. They were a deep, perfect blue, framed by lush lashes, and the moment she focused on his face, they widened in pure horror.
Well, damn it, of course. If she was the single living refugee from the ill-fated wagon train, waking to a man who clearly had Indian heritage bending over her wasn’t exactly going to give her comfort. Quickly, he said, “It’s all right.”
“No!” It was a gasp, part scream, part panic, and she sat up, the damaged white gown she was only half-wearing sliding completely off her slim, shaking shoulders. “Oh, God, leave me alone, please.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He tried to speak as calmly as possible and sank back on his heels, holding up his hands in an unthreatening gesture. “I promise. We were just riding along and saw you lying here. Tell me, are you injured?”
She fought to cover her nudity by snatching up the torn cloth, and semi-succeeded in shielding what he had already decided might be the finest pair of breasts he’d ever seen.
“No…yes, I don’t know.” Her response was punctuated by small sobs. “Where am I?”
“Western Kansas.”
“Western Kansas?” She looked dazed and her mouth trembled.
Her cultured but unexpected accent registered, and Cole frowned. “You’re English?”
She shivered, her eyes dilating as her gaze moved from his face to Robert and Jace, and then back to him. Her voice was barely audible. “Yes, from Wiltshire. But I am traveling with my aunt and uncle to California.”
Cole had learned a long time ago to not sugar-coat the truth, and he shook his head and said quietly, “Not anymore, I’m afraid.”
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