Shot Gun Grooms. Maureen Child

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СКАЧАТЬ CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       Extract

       Copyright

       Lucas’s Convenient Bride

       Susan Mallery

      Other novels available from SUSAN MALLERY:

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      Silhouette Special Edition

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      The Sheik’s Secret Bride #1331

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      Unexpectedly Expecting! #1370

      Wife in Disguise #1383

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      Silhouette Intimate Moments

      Cinderella for a Night #1029

       CHAPTER ONE

      Defiance, Colorado, 1875

      Emily Smythe was more than ready to dance with the devil—if only he weren’t so large. Still, walking away now would be nigh on to shirking and she’d never once shirked in her life. She squared her thin shoulders, raised her chin and told herself that she had righteousness on her side. Righteousness and a plan. With the right plan, a person could take on the devil himself and win.

      Ignoring the trembling of her limbs and the way her stomach seemed to be jumping around inside her, she pushed through the swinging doors of the Silver Slipper saloon and stepped into a smoky world.

      She had a brief impression of a much larger crowd than she’d expected for a midweek afternoon. There were at least two dozen tables spread out around the main part of the room, nearly all of them occupied. On the far side of the saloon, men sat playing cards. Gambling, she thought with both distaste and shock. Gambling in the middle of the day. Who could imagine such a thing?

      Her gaze drifted right and she saw the long, wide bar that stretched the length of the room. It was polished wood, nearly chest high and crowded with men. Behind the bar she saw mirrors, dozens of bottles of liquor and a big bear of man. Lucas MacIntyre, the devil himself.

      Emily pursed her lips together in disapproval as she took in the tall, muscular man dressed in black trousers, a white shirt and fancy red vest. Lucas MacIntyre didn’t wear a coat like a respectable man, but considering he operated a saloon, allowed gambling and sold spirits, she doubted the lack of formal attire would be noticed on his very long, very serious list of transgressions.

      A voice in her head screamed at her to turn around and leave before anyone noticed her. She didn’t belong here—she couldn’t possibly do this. Yet she knew she didn’t have a choice. Lucas MacIntyre was her only hope for success and she didn’t allow herself to think of failure. She had right on her side. She was a hard worker and she had her plan. She would make him listen, then she would make him agree. All without giving in to the very real temptation to turn on her heel and run.

      Emily raised her chin one more notch, sucked in a breath and made her way to the bar. She knew the exact moment that the men in the saloon noticed her presence. There was a heartbeat of excruciating silence followed by an explosion of voices. The crowd in front of the bar parted to allow her access. She marched directly forward, looking neither left nor right, until she could press her hands against the arm rail, then cleared her throat.

      “Mr. MacIntyre, may I have a word with you?”

      At the sound of her voice, the crowd grew quiet again. Lucas MacIntyre stood with his back to the room, polishing a freshly washed glass. In the time it took him to turn to look at her, she was able to surreptitiously glance about, noticing that while the smell of liquor and cigars was most unpleasant, the saloon was much tidier than she had imagined. The floor appeared to be freshly swept and the glasses were clean. Perhaps Mr. MacIntyre was a man with whom she could reason.

      He turned slowly, first putting down the glass then taking the two steps to the bar. It was only when he reached the polished wood that he settled his gaze on her.

      She knew the man by reputation but wasn’t sure she’d ever actually seen him around town. Or if she had, she’d never really looked at him. He was tall and broad shouldered, which she already knew, but he was also handsome. Sinfully so. He had strong features with large, dark blue eyes and a full-lipped mouth topped by a silky brown moustache.

      He looked her up and down, as if she was some kind of horse for sale, then he smiled.

      “I’m going to guess you’re lost, ma’am. Because you don’t look like you’re from Miss Cherry’s and no other female would dare set foot in a saloon. Maybe you’re looking for the Ladies Social Club. They meet on the first and third Wednesday of the month, over at the church.”

      Emily heard the sounds of male laughter. She felt her face grow hot and her limbs begin to tremble more. But she couldn’t speak, nor could she move from her spot on the wood floor. It wasn’t his words that kept her firmly in place; it was his smile.

      Lucas MacIntyre’s smile had transformed his face from just handsome to impossibly attractive. Tiny lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes and there was a hint of a dimple in both his cheeks. He looked teasing and irreverent at the same time. Emily knew she should be outraged and insulted, but all she could think was that she’d never seen a man smile quite like Mr. MacIntyre.

      “I…” Her voice trailed off as she struggled to remember what she’d wanted to say. In all her twenty-six years she’d never been as affected by a man. Her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid it was going to jump right out of her chest.

      “Mr. MacIntyre, I assure you I am not lost. I wish to speak with you for a moment.”

      Lucas gave her another smile, this one not quite so bright. “No offense, ma’am, but you don’t look like the type to be bringing a man good news, so I’d rather say good-afternoon and suggest you go on your way.” Then he turned and walked to the far end of the bar.

      Emily practically sputtered. How rude! How ungentlemanly of him, although she shouldn’t be surprised. Manners were a rare commodity in the West, as she’d learned in the nearly two years she’d been in Colorado. She was also used to being dismissed and ignored by men, although that unpleasant activity had begun long before she’d left Ohio. Emily was a realist. She knew she wasn’t a pretty woman, nor was her appearance the kind to command attention or respect. She’d had to struggle to make herself heard more СКАЧАТЬ