The Gunfighter and the Heiress - By Carol Finch Page 0,10
He itched to pull the pins from her hair and comb his fingers through those dark, flaming strands. He wanted to watch them tumble across the pillow on his bed while they were naked in each other’s arms…
Van snapped to attention, shocked at how quickly his wayward thoughts left him hard and aching. He usually had more self-control. But Miss Sunshine tempted the most self-disciplined of men—and he liked to think he was one.
“You are very much mistaken if you think I wasn’t serious when I announced our wedding plans.”
He noticed her heavy drawl changed and the slur in her voice became more pronounced. Despite the glassy glaze in her obsidian eyes, she still sounded intent and determined.
“I will pay you handsomely to sign your name on a marriage license. You will receive a substantial fee for the use of your name. I will have the ultimate revenge on the two bastards trying to manipulate my life. No man will ever do that again. My new life of independence and adventure begins after the ceremony…” Hiccup. “’Scuse me.”
Natalie frowned at the sluggish sound of her own voice. She stared into the contents of her glass and decided Crow was right. The whiskey didn’t taste as offensive as it had earlier. Plus, it took the edge off her nerves. She supposed that was important because they needed to have this heart-to-heart talk so they could reach an agreement. As he’d said, this was part of the business negotiation ritual.
Her fuzzy gaze settled on his raven head and she marveled at the thick strands of his hair. Truth be told, she noticed everything about the dynamic man who would never fit into the well-to-do social circle in New Orleans. And that made him ideal for her—except there were two of him now. How odd. She shook her head in attempt to clear her blurred vision.
Donovan Crow didn’t spew practiced lines of flattery or flaunt polished manners. He didn’t project an air of self-importance that she disliked so much. He was what he was—a seasoned warrior tested and hardened by danger. His training in Indian culture provided him with a keen understanding of how to survive in the wilderness.
“Now I get it,” he said, jostling her from her meandering thoughts. “You want me to marry you before your other fiancé shows up. That way you can take control of your life so he and your stepfather can’t interfere.”
“Precisely. I began this process three months ago when my mother died.” Her voice wavered but she gathered her composure and continued. “Mama had been ill for years. She couldn’t counter my stepfather’s scheme to marry me off and swindle me out of my inheritance. She encouraged me to become free and independent.”
He stilled, watching her much too closely with those piercing silver-blue eyes. “How much inheritance are we discussing, sunshine?”
She shrugged lackadaisically. There were some things Donovan Crow didn’t need to know. She refused to break her hard-and-fast rule that no man could be trusted explicitly. “Enough to provide him with a modest monthly stipend for the next several years.”
That wasn’t true. Her stepfather coveted the generous stipend that would outlast his lifetime. Natalie’s maternal ancestors, the Robedeauxs, were royalty in France who had escaped the revolution and moved their shipping business to New Orleans to provide merchants with unique and valuable products from all over the world. Her father’s family held English titles and established several banks in Louisiana and in towns up and down the Mississippi River.
Which is why she traveled under an alias and refused to divulge her last name since it was so well known.
Crow’s intense, probing stare bore into her but she waved him off. “The point is those two bastards—” She covered her mouth when the foul names she’d given Avery Marsh, her stepfather (Bastard Number One), and Thurston Kimball III, the philandering fiancé (Bastard Number Two), popped from her lips.
Rather than frowning in disapproval, as she expected, he threw back his head and laughed heartily. The deep, resonant sound utterly fascinated her and left a lasting impression, despite her inebriated state. So did the accompanying smile that lit every bronzed feature of his face. Suddenly Crow didn’t seem as formidable as he had while he was bearing down on her earlier that evening.
She would have to remember to picture him laughing and grinning the next time he gave her that chilling look that turned his silver-blue eyes to ice and his face to chiseled granite.