The Gunfighter and the Heiress - By Carol Finch Page 0,11
he prompted, then sipped his whiskey. He raised the bottle to her. “More?”
“Please.” And why not? she asked herself. They were enjoying a companionable discussion and negotiating a business deal. It was a man’s way so it would become her way, too.
“The two men who’re trying to run my life and end it prematurely…” Hiccup. “Sorry… They won’t have control over me and my…modest…inheritance.”
“So we get married. You pay me for the use of my name and then what?” His penetrating stare was back in place—poking and prodding to reveal the secrets in her heart and soul. Tipsy or not, Natalie was determined to divulge as few secrets as possible.
“Then I set off on a great adventure I’ve dreamed about. I go where I want, when I want and you collect your fee and no longer bother with me.”
“So I sign my name beside yours on the document. We part company without the slightest inconvenience to either of us? That’s it?”
He was frowning into his glass. She couldn’t fathom why.
“Easiest money you will ever make,” she tempted him.
“Or so you say.” He stared at her suspiciously. “I don’t have to track anyone down, investigate a murder or confront bank robbers, train robbers, cattle thieves or ruthless murderers?”
She nodded affirmatively—or at least she thought she did. A strange numbness affected her movements and her senses so she took another drink to cure the problem. It didn’t help.
He stared at her over the rim of his glass. “What if you find someone you really want to marry someday?”
“I won’t,” she mumbled. “I handpicked you and you are perfect for me. I have sworn off men and their conniving ways for the rest of my life. You are the exception. What about you? Will you marry one day?”
“No, I’m not considered desirable marriage material because of my mixed heritage. The only available jobs are as bounty hunters, hired guns and lawmen. None of which appeals to most decent women.”
He was silent a moment, then he said, “That’s why you singled me out, isn’t it? A gun for hire becomes a husband for hire. We conclude our business transaction and go our separate ways.” He smirked then drained his glass. “And whites call me cold-blooded. There’s a laugh, sunshine.”
“You’re a businessman and I’m a businesswoman,” she replied—and wondered what had become of her exaggerated Southern accent. “We strike a bargain that benefits both of us and our business is concluded. Then I head for Denver to see the mountains I’ve heard described in books. Simple as that.”
“And I venture to a brothel to celebrate my marriage?” He scoffed. “Sounds unconventional in every way imaginable.”
She tossed him a droopy smile. “Unconventional will be my middle name, Crow. I plan to enjoy all the conveniences and privileges men take for granted.”
“Like barging into a saloon on a wild whim?” he supplied helpfully.
She shrugged. “I’ll strive to do anything and everything a man can do and I will never be at any man’s mercy again.”
“And that is important?”
“As important to me as I suspect avoiding reservation life in Indian Territory is to you.” She fought to keep her wits about her while she played her ace in the hole. “Freedom, Crow. I want what you have. I think you understand what I mean.”
Their gazes locked and she knew he understood her, just as she understood him. He, like she, valued independence. She didn’t know the specific details of his former life or his mixed-heritage background, but she suspected his white ancestry spared him from the confinement his Indian clan endured.
Silence stretched between them for a long moment. Eventually he said, “Your plan has a few problems that I can see.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Your two bastard friends might track you down and have the marriage annulled…unless we consummate it. Even then, all they need is enough money to bribe a corrupt judge to discard the license. Or dispose of me so you’ll become a marriageable widow.”
Chapter Three
Natalie slumped back on the sofa and nearly sloshed her drink down the front of her dress. Her cheeks felt flushed and her thoughts swirled in disarray. Whether from too much liquor or the intimate topic of conversation, she couldn’t say for certain.
She shot Crow a sideways glance, wondering if this hard-edged man knew how to be tender with a woman who had no intimate experience whatsoever. He didn’t look the least bit gentle. Which was another necessary qualification for this assignment. If Avery and Thurston confronted him, they would think twice about