The Gunfighter and the Heiress (6 page)

“Two hundred fifty is my top offer,” she declared.

“Three thousand for my license signature, the survival classes and I'll pay part of the wedding expenses.”

“Done,” she said sooner than he expected. She extended her hand and he shook it. Then she smiled wryly and said, “I'd have given four, Crow.”

“Then I'll have to find a way to compensate for what I could have had,” he countered suggestively.

When her face turned beet-red, he knew that she knew
what he meant. And hell, if she was hiring him as her husband, then she could compensate for being his wife. Fair was fair, wasn't it?

“You are a scoundrel,” she muttered at him.

He smiled widely, showing his teeth. “I wouldn't be if you had agreed to the fair price of
four
thousand.”

N
atalie spent the day buzzing around town making necessary arrangements for the wedding and reception. She contacted the justice of the peace to schedule the ceremony at seven o'clock the next evening. She confirmed the delivery of refreshments and requested tables to accommodate the partygoers.

After constant activity all day, Natalie decided to make an early night of it. She needed to catch up on her sleep and fully recover from her consumption of whiskey during her initial negotiations with Crow. Speaking of her soon-to-be groom, she hadn't seen him since they'd haggled over his fee at breakfast. He hadn't shown up to collect his money and she wondered how he'd spent the day before their wedding.

The next morning there was still no word from Crow or Bart. Nonetheless, Natalie hiked off to pick up several items of clothing and necessary supplies for her journey on horseback. She hurried back to her room to relax, then bathed and dressed in the simple white gown she had purchased at the one and only boutique in town.

“Business arrangement, pure and simple,” she told her reflection when her stomach knotted and a bad case of nerves seized her. Suddenly she was questioning her decision to rush into a marriage to a man she barely knew.

“This is what you wanted, Nat. This is the man you wanted to provide you with a ticket to freedom. Donovan Crow doesn't love you and you don't have to love him back.” After all, these sorts of arrangements were commonplace in New Orleans. It's exactly what she would have had with Thurston Kimball III. Only better.

So why didn't she feel completely satisfied with this arrangement? She chalked it up to hasty wedding jitters and fiddled nervously with her coiffure. The staccato rap at the door startled her, assuring her that despite her pep talk she was still very much on edge.

“It's Bart!” he called from the other side of the door. “I'm here to escort you to the park, Miss Jones.”

Natalie inhaled a restorative breath and grabbed the yellow rose she had kept in a glass of water—it was all the bouquet she needed. Then she opened the door.

Bart appraised her new gown. “You look exceptionally lovely. You remind me of…”

He broke off suddenly and she wondered if she reminded him of a woman from his past, but she was too nervous and short on time to delve into Bart's previous life in Boston.

“Ready?”

“As I'll ever be.”

“That's exactly what Van said. He's exceptionally nervous. He never expected to marry.” Bart smiled wryly. “You should know that yours was his only offer.”

Natalie chuckled, thankful that Bart was trying to ease her nervous tension. It worked to a small degree. “Thank you.”

He arched a thick brow. “For what?”

“For calming me down, as if you don't know. And by the way, like Crow, I only plan to do this once in my life.”

“Then you chose well, Miss Jones.”

“I know,” she said to him, as well as herself.

Donovan Crow met and exceeded every qualification and expectation. She could drop his name from here to Santa Fe and it should be a deterrent for trouble.

Her thoughts faltered and so did her footsteps when she reached the park and saw Crow pacing in front of the circular garden where the justice of the peace waited, along with the whole blessed town! Dear God, what was she doing?

Bart halted beside her, then cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his solemn gaze. “I don't know exactly what is going on with you. But if you're going to change your mind, do it now.
Not
in front of the entire town. Van has dealt with far too many taunts and insults because of his mixed heritage. I know how it feels to be teased because I look like an out-of-place greenhorn in the West. Although Van is hard-nosed and tough as they come, I won't allow you to embarrass him.”

The lecture was all Natalie needed to shore up her faltering composure. “I have no intention of embarrassing Crow,” she told him firmly, then flashed a playful grin. “At the high price he commands, I wouldn't think of wasting my money by backing out now. Even though he hasn't stopped by to collect, yet, I'm sure he will eventually.”

Bart snickered as he escorted her toward the waiting crowd. “I'm sure he'll get around to it in his own time. And you're right, he
is
expensive.”

She squared her shoulders and pasted on a smile as they walked down the makeshift aisle. She was ready to
seal this deal that granted her everlasting independence and control of her family inheritance.

 

Van heard the murmur of voices behind him as he tugged at the cravat that felt like a noose around his neck. Nervous energy roiled through him as he lurched around to greet his soon-to-be bride. His heart slammed against his ribs—and stuck there—when he caught his first glimpse of Natalie being escorted down the aisle by his best friend.

Married? You're getting married? Are you loco?

He could think of a dozen sensible reasons why he shouldn't marry her—and only one reason he should. Because he
liked
her, even if he didn't trust her. He admired her spunk and spirit. He reminded himself—with a certain sense of pride—that of all the men in the world she had chosen
him.

His all-consuming gaze roamed appreciatively over her formfitting white gown that accentuated her alluring curves and swells to their best advantage. Natalie Whoever-She-Was was stunningly attractive and she had a body made for sin. He knew it for certain because he'd peeled off her yellow gown and put her to bed that first night.

Erotic fantasies had tormented him constantly since then… His thoughts fizzled out as she walked toward him with her shoulders squared and her chin tilted to that determined angle he'd come to recognize in their short but intense acquaintance.

An unfamiliar sensation overcame him when Natalie halted beside him and he noticed the single yellow rose she carried. He wasn't sure what it signified, but it made him feel…well, he didn't know what he felt but it was a pleasant sensation and there hadn't been very many of those in his adult life.

“Last chance, Crow,” she murmured. “Do you want to change your mind and make a run for it?”

“No.” He tossed her a teasing smile and said, “I bought this fancy suit already. Hate to waste it.”

The grin she flashed made her dark onyx eyes twinkle and he impulsively took her hand in his as they turned to face the rotund justice of the peace who was only an inch taller than Natalie and was decked out in his Sunday-goto-meeting clothes.

Before Van knew what hit him, Natalie had said
I do
and so had he. Then he felt a moment of discomfort when he realized he hadn't bought her a wedding band. But Natalie discreetly slipped him the ring she had been wearing on her right hand and he placed it on her left one at the prompt. Then they reached his favorite part of the ceremony where the justice of the peace announced they were husband and wife and he got to kiss his bride in front of the whole blessed town.

Even if no one in town could figure out why this bewitching female wanted to marry a man like him, a cheer rose up from the crowd. Van vaguely registered the sound because the feel of Natalie's lush body pressed suggestively to his left him distracted to the extreme. The taste of her honeyed lips melting beneath his demanded his undivided attention.

A moment later, he heard Bart clearing his throat and felt a discreet nudge in the ribs. When Van broke the intoxicating kiss he noted his friend was grinning broadly and Natalie looked as dazed as he felt.

The sizzle and burn assailing his body was nothing more than fierce physical attraction, he tried to tell himself. Natalie was breathtakingly beautiful, after all. He'd been without a woman for more weeks than he cared to count. Naturally, she aroused him.

He curled his arm possessively around her as the crowd surged forward to congratulate them. To his amazement, people who usually ignored him took time to wish him well. It was as if he had become accepted and respected because of his connection to the auburn-haired woman he'd married.

Natalie looked sophisticated and poised. She was gracious to everyone who greeted her, though she insisted everyone call her Anna and he wondered why she refused to divulge her real name… Which reminded him…

“We haven't signed the license,” he murmured in her ear.

“We can do it as soon as the greeting line trails off and the refreshments are served,” she replied.

A quarter of an hour later, the crowd converged on the tables beside the street to partake of food and drink. The local band struck up a lively tune and a moment of panic hammered at Van. The crowd turned in synchronized rhythm, expecting him to take the first dance with his new wife. Van glanced helplessly at Bart who nodded encouragingly.

“I doubt the ceremonial war dances I learned in childhood are appropriate for a white man's wedding,” he mumbled self-consciously to Natalie.

To his relief she grinned impishly at him and said, “Finally, something that I might be able to do better than you. This is a waltz and the steps are easy. Slow, quick, quick… One…two, three.”

She stood close enough to him that he could shadow the movements of her body while she counted the tempo in a whisper. He must not have looked too clumsy because the crowd applauded and then went back to eating and drinking.

“I must warn you that these dance lessons will cost
you, Crow,” she teased playfully. “A thousand should do it.”

“Now who's the highwayman?” he countered with a grin.

By the time they completed the second waltz, Van had his dancing legs beneath him and felt confident that he wasn't making a complete fool of himself or of Natalie. In fact, he felt like part of a community for the first time. It was a gigantic step for a man who straddled two contrasting civilizations and never felt as if he really belonged in either one.

Bart ambled across the area cordoned off for dancing and halted beside Van. “May I dance with the bride?”

“Of course—”

Van's voice dried up when a gunshot rang out of nowhere. He reached reflexively for Natalie and rolled with her to the ground. He managed to pin her protectively beneath him before a second bullet whizzed past his head and slammed into Bart's shoulder when he dived to the ground to protect Natalie's exposed left side.

“Ouch, damn. That hurts,” Bart hissed as he grabbed his bleeding arm.

Van reached for the double holsters strapped around his hips then remembered he hadn't worn his six-shooters to the ceremony. He cursed under his breath as he reached into his right boot to retrieve the long-barreled pistol. A third shot whistled through the air and the frightened crowd scattered in every direction at once to avoid being hit. Van swore sourly when he noticed the flares of gunpowder and the dark puffs of smoke rising from the roof of the butcher shop. Now he knew where the second two shots had originated but not the first one. What he
did
know was someone was taking potshots at him. There were two or three shooters, he guessed. Was
it the three surviving members of the Harper Gang? Had they come gunning for him during the wedding reception? He was surprised they hadn't ambushed him during the ceremony.

“Damn Harper brothers,” he scowled in disgust, wishing he'd spent the previous day reconnoitering the area instead of catching up on sleep.

He was outraged by the interruption at his wedding party and mad as hell that Natalie's white gown was smeared with grass stains galore. But worse, his best friend had suffered a gunshot wound. Snarling, Van bolted to his feet and fired off two shots toward the roof of the butcher shop.

“Curse it, Crow!” Natalie railed at him as she vaulted to her feet. “Don't call more attention to yourself!”

To his disbelief, she thrust herself in front of him, just as she had done that night in Road To Ruin Saloon.

“Stop doing that!” he snapped, shoving her behind him before he pulled the trigger again.

Although he knew his boot pistol was out of range, he doubted his bushwhackers knew it. He fired off one more shot for good measure. It was met with silence. Apparently, his attackers—who had used guerrilla warfare to hit and run, had beat a hasty retreat before he identified them.

Instinct and training urged him to take off at a dead run to track down the snipers. Van was accustomed to facing danger alone—and doing it immediately. However, with Bart down and Natalie unprotected, he hesitated to race off.

“Oh, God!” Natalie gasped as she stared at the bloodstain that soaked the sleeve of Bart's expensive jacket. “Are you all right?”

“Does having your arm hurt like blazing hell count as all right?” Bart asked with a grimace.

“Take off your jacket and let's see how bad it is.” She craned her neck to survey the departing backs of the crowd. “Is there a doctor available?”

“I don't need a doctor,” Bart murmured as he carefully peeled off his jacket to see the red stains on his left shirtsleeve. “I have Van.”

Natalie blinked owlishly as Crow knelt beside his friend. He retrieved a knife from his left boot to cut open the sleeve of the white shirt to assess the injury.

“Four inches to the right and you'd have a serious problem, Bartholomew,” Crow said as he blotted the wound with the hem of Bart's shirt.

“Glad my luck held,” he panted as he tried to lever himself into an upright position. His face turned white as salt and he wilted back to the ground. “Go find the men who shot at us and give them my regards.”

Crow shook his head. “First things first. I'm taking you and Sunshine to your rooms for safekeeping.
Then
I'll track down those bastards.”

Natalie swallowed uneasily as her gaze darted up the side of the brick building to survey the place where the shots had been fired. She felt ill, certain the bastards Crow referred to were Avery Marsh, Thurston Kimball and their hired assassins. How had they managed to find her so quickly?