The Gunfighter and the Heiress by Carol Finch Page A

husband. Counting the battle scars on his arms, ribs and shoulders wasn’t helping to ease her attraction to him. Instead, she felt compelled to kiss away any remembered pain he’d suffered.
    Then she wanted to make a deliberate study of the rest of him… Never mind what else you’re tempted to do with him, she scolded herself harshly. Her problem was that she’d become caught up in the fact that Crow was her husband and she was entitled to certain wifely rights to appease her feminine curiosity.
    â€œSunshine, are you coming to bed?”
    She snapped to attention when she noticed that he’d sprawled on the bedspread and cushioned his head on his linked fingers. He was a fine male specimen. She couldn’t take her eyes off those rippling muscles and corded ten-dons on his chest and abdomen.
    Without removing her clothing, Natalie stretched out beside him. After all, she still planned to sneak out the instant he dozed off. To her frustration, he rolled to his side and draped his arm over her waist, then angled hisbent leg over her knees, effectively pinning in her place without applying pressure.
    Her irritation with him fizzled out when he pressed the most incredibly tender kiss to her lips. Sensual awareness sizzled through her when his hand drifted dangerously close to the underside of her breast, then settled on her belly. Her body burned with unappeased need when he nudged his chin against the curve of her neck, then relaxed beside her.
    Three hours later, she awoke to make her escape, only to find the sneaky rascal had tied her ankle to his.
    â€œMaking sure my captives don’t escape me is one of the things I do best,” he whispered in her ear.
    Goose bumps pebbled her skin, despite her irritation with the clever rascal. “I’m really beginning to hate you, Crow.”
    â€œI’m starting to hate you, too, wife,” he said in a husky voice that sent another pleasurable sensation curling through her body. “Get some sleep. We have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow.”
    Â 
    Avery Marsh swore vehemently as he searched the mansion for the dozenth time, looking for the Robedeaux-Blair jewels and the stash of money his deceased wife tried to hide from him. No doubt, that sassy little bitch he’d tried to marry off to Kimball, in exchange for a cut of the fortune, had taken the money and valuables when she skipped town.
    His angry thoughts trailed off when Thurston Kimball III strutted into the parlor, puffing on his pipe. “The two mercenaries we hired to run Natalie to ground haven’t been successful.” He blew a lopsided smoke ring around his blond head, then struck a haughty pose.
    In Avery’s opinion, Kimball had little practical use,except that he was desperate for money to pay his gambling debts, so he readily agreed to Avery’s scheme to marry Natalie in exchange for money.
    â€œI received a message after you placed that cleverly worded article in the newspaper and mentioned the supposed maid you invented for us to throw suspicion on.” Kimball puffed on his pipe. “Several witnesses remembered seeing a woman enter the train depot, wearing widow’s garb. She was the only passenger traveling alone to Fort Worth. It must have been Natalie.” Kimball frowned in distaste. “Good God, why would she flit off to an outpost on the very edge of civilization and leave New Orleans behind?” He shuddered at the thought.
    â€œBecause she thinks it’s the last place we might look for her,” Avery predicted. “That chit has always been too smart for her own good, too defiant. No matter how I played up to her, I swear she could see through me.”
    â€œI doubt she saw through my pretend interest in her,” Kimball commented. “I’ve fooled countless women in my time.” Avery doubted that, but he needed this swaggering cock’s help if he was going to lay claim to the Blair