Maverick Wild. Stacey Kayne

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СКАЧАТЬ walked into his room thinking he was well beyond the age when niceness got him anywhere. He was tired of tripping over marriage-minded women and sick to death of being celibate! Unless a woman was interested in getting naked and getting lost, she could get the hell out of his way.

      Did he go around shouting such things? No! He was polite, damn it! And hadn’t it been his idea to knock on Cora Mae’s window and invite her along that first time. Tucker had griped for days about a girl tagging along with them. Who was Tucker to tell him to be nice?

      He found the matches on his night table and lit the lamp, spilling light across his room and the wooden box beside the glass kerosene globe. Slumping onto his bed, he flipped the lid up and took a small leather pouch from the clutter of coins, cuff links and pocket watches. Dipping his fingers inside, he pulled out the thin silken fabric.

      Faded by time, the only color left in the frayed thing were smudges of dirt and dried blood. Just a stupid ribbon…that had brought him the slightest comfort in times when he’d desperately needed to believe there was more than pain and violence in this world. He’d think of Cora Mae, her smiles, her sweetness, her resilience.

      He wasn’t sure why he still kept it. It had been too many years since they’d been informed that Winifred had sold their birthright and taken her daughter to Delaware to live in luxury at Tindale Manor.

      He glanced at the lamp’s flame, so tempted to lower the ribbon into the bright light and be done with it.

       What the hell good will it do now?

      She was here, her big dark eyes full of sadness and shadows, tying him up in knots, just as they always had.

      And he was supposed to be nice?

      Chapter Three

      If a woman wanted something done right, she had to do it herself!

      Salina Jameson snapped the reins, picking up speed as the Morgan house came into view. Her buggy wasn’t moving nearly fast enough. She knew it was close to suppertime, and their household was likely busy. Didn’t matter.

      She wasn’t about to risk her claim on the man she’d been trying to seduce into her bed for the past year. Elusive devil he may be, but Chance Morgan was hers. The sooner he realized marrying her would end his troubles with the Lazy J, the sooner everything would work out best for all of them.

      She’d listened to Wyatt’s account of Chance’s retaliation as he’d moaned about his bruised ribs for over an hour, all before he’d casually mentioned the woman.

      Pretty young woman, he’d called her. Miss Tindale, he’d called her.

      Seething with rage, she snapped the reins again. How could Wyatt not see this woman’s arrival as a threat to their plans? Perhaps she was becoming too relaxed with him. She’d clearly have to set her affair with Wyatt aside for now. She had to keep her eyes on the real prize. Merging with the Morgan Ranch.

      The highwaymen calling themselves a cattle association were robbing her blind. By joining with the Morgans she would more than meet the land requirements to avoid their penalties. She’d save her ranch from ruin and gain a man worth having in a marriage bed. The mere thought sent a surge of arousal through her body as she guided her buggy into the yard. She paid no notice to the men stopping to glance at her from various corrals. She only wanted one man in her bed, for now.

      As she reined in near the house, Skylar’s younger brother rode toward her. Not too young, she thought, admiring the strong build of the young man as he reined in beside her. A sixteen-year-old was fine for passing some time, but not what was required in a husband. She needed a man who could intimidate those overlording cattlemen. There wasn’t a man who didn’t step aside when the Morgan brothers moved through the railhead stockyard.

      She needed Chance Morgan.

      “Afternoon, Mrs. Jameson,” Garret said, the spark in his eyes and kick of his smile assuring her she’d chosen the right gown. Black didn’t have to be basic.

      “Mr. Daines,” she said, giving him a coy smile. “Is your sister home?”

      “Yes, ma’am. I’d take you in, but Tuck’s waiting on me. Skylar will answer the door.” His horse sidestepped away. “Good day to you.”

      Not so far. She set the brake, stepped down from her buggy and strolled toward the two-story ranch house.

      Quite grand, she thought, crossing the wide porch to the double polished-oak doors. Surely Chance would want his own home, away from his brother’s family? Her home wasn’t nearly as large, but it was quaint and she was settled. She rapped her knuckles three times against the wood. Tugging off her gloves, she decided she was very anxious for a visit with her future sister-in-law, and her guest.

      The door opened and her gaze locked on an impossibly large belly.

      “Salina. What a surprise.”

      The poor dear! “Hello, Skylar. Aren’t you…”

      “Huge,” Skylar supplied, patting her round stomach.

      She couldn’t argue. She’d never seen a woman so heavy with child.

      “Twins,” Skylar said.

      Salina had always counted her inability to produce a child as a blessing—and was now twice as thankful.

      “What can I do for you, Salina?”

      “I heard there was another woman in the area, and I thought I’d pay a social call.”

      Her neighbor stared down at her in clear surprise.

      Salina couldn’t deny that she’d never been one to pay social calls in the past, at least not to women. But that was before they’d brought in a rival.

      “We’re in the midst of preparing supper.”

      “Oh, thank you, but I can’t stay to eat.” She stepped between the small gap of the door frame and Skylar’s belly and slipped into the house. “I just wanted to say hello and give a proper greeting.” She glanced around the large yet frightfully simple home. The bare tables and clunky furniture reminded her of a bunkhouse. The woman of the house clearly had no sense of fashion or style.

      Movement beyond the dining hall caught her attention. A rather plain woman with reddish hair walked toward them, wiping her hands on a white apron tied at her waist.

      This is my competition? Wyatt hadn’t mentioned the splash of freckles on the woman’s face or her sturdy build. Pleasantly plump, thought Salina. The woman’s drab gray smock and black dress were similar to that of Salina’s housekeeper’s.

      “You must be Miss Tindale.” She hoped.

      “Yes.”

      Salina glanced back at Skylar and awaited her introduction.

      “Cora, this is our neighbor, Mrs. Salina Jameson, owner of the Lazy J ranch, just beyond the east end of our valley.”

      Salina flashed her best smile. “Charmed.”

      “Likewise,” СКАЧАТЬ