The Gunfighter and the Heiress by Carol Finch

is independent.” He suddenly bounded to his feet and lurched toward the sitting room. “I’m going to check on her. I think I’ll take your advice and camp out at her door. Maybe I can get some sleep.”
    â€œYou do that. Meanwhile, I’ll be here nursing a wounded arm, black eye and split lip. As for you, you married an elusive woman harboring only God knows how many dangerous secrets that might recoil and bite us in the ass. Oh, and congratulations to you for marrying trouble, Van. It keeps life interesting, to say the least.”
    Van poked his head around the bedroom door, glared at Bart and said, “You are not as funny as you think you are. And, thus far, I see nothing to recommend married life.”
    Bart snickered as he settled himself comfortably in bed. “You should have married a pushover. If you’d have had a traditional wedding night, you’d be in better spirits.”
    Van walked away, scowling.
    Exotic fantasies tormented him while he tried to sleep outside her door—his pistol at the ready, in case trouble showed up. Luckily, no one wandered by to wonder if he had been kicked out on his wedding night.
    Even though Van didn’t trust his mysterious, secretive wife, he wanted her. Only her. That bothered him. He’d never been particular when it came to scratching an itchand easing male needs. He told himself that he was partial to Natalie—or whoever she was—because she was his lawfully wedded wife. But he was afraid his feelings went deeper. She teased him, she amused him. She frustrated him and intrigued him. She aroused him with the slightest kiss and the lightest touch of her body brushing against his.
    Van was suffering from a severe case of lust and it was wearing his disposition thin. Plus, his inner battle between doubt and desire was maddening.
    He blew out an agitated breath when her door opened silently and her shadowed form—with a suitcase clutched in each hand—hovered above him.
    â€œGoing somewhere again, sunshine? Over my dead body.”
    She glared at him and said, “Don’t tempt me.” Then she slammed the door.

Chapter Six
    N atalie swore under her breath when Crow opened the door she had slammed in his face. “I thought I made it clear that just because you’re my husband doesn’t mean you are entitled to boss me around.”
    â€œI must have forgotten.” He tossed her a sarcastic smile. “Sort of like you did when I told you to stand guard by Bart’s door and you barged in while I confronted the three hooligans who planned to finish off Bart tonight.”
    He had her there, she admitted. She had thumbed her nose at his commands, determined to aid Bart and Crow if they encountered trouble. Which they certainly had.
    Her thoughts went up in smoke when Crow dragged his pillow and pallet into her room to place it in front of her door. She glowered at him for blocking her escape route again.
    â€œAre you inviting me to your bed instead?” he challenged.
    She considered it for a half second then said, “Yes.”
    That must have surprised him for his thick brows nearly shot off his forehead. “So what’s the catch, sunshine?”
    She wasn’t about to tell him that she thought she might stand a better chance of escaping if he fell asleep in her bed rather than having to step over him while he was sprawled in front of her door. And curse it, she should have gone out the window earlier. Unfortunately, the route was precarious and she hadn’t wanted to break an arm or leg because she had a long ride ahead of her.
    â€œThere is no catch. I was just thinking of your comfort.”
    â€œYour concern is touching,” he scoffed, and locked her door.
    When he shed his dark shirt, exposing the washboard muscles of his belly and his powerful shoulders, Natalie lost her train of thought. Confound it, she was far too aware of the brawny warrior who was now her