“Some friend you are,” Logan muttered to Gabe’s taunting image. “You refused to help save me from myself. Merry Christmas, indeed!”
Chapter Three
Two days later, Tori was ready and waiting when Logan pulled up in the wagon. She had been dashing around like a madwoman, placing holiday decorations in the store windows and giving away Christmas cookies to her customers. She had seen nothing of the marshal since their dance lesson—if you could call it that. In addition, she’d lost a lot of sleep trying to figure out what there was about the dark-eyed, raven-haired Logan Daniels that prompted her to cast inhibition to the four winds when he came within three feet of her.
“Morning,” Logan said in a neutral voice. He gaped at her when she clamored from the house with luggage dangling off her like ornaments on a Christmas tree. “Why so many satchels?”
“I have to bring morning dresses, evening gowns and such,” she explained. “It’s a different world in Fort Worth.”
“Apparently.” He hopped to the ground to load the luggage. “I didn’t bring a single dress with me.”
“Good. I’d hate to have to explain that to my family,” she said, grinning. She handed over several satchels for him to place in the bed of the rented wagon. “Luckily you won’t be on display to the same extreme that I am. I, after all, have to compete with the wardrobe of the Chosen One, who shops at the exclusive boutiques in Boston. She never fails to look freshly bathed, starched and pressed. Even when Cilla looks her worst, I can’t match her when I’m at my best. My sister is an absolute marvel of fashion.”
Logan tossed her a quick glance without meeting her eyes. “You look fine to me.”
“Fine is not a satisfactory standard for the Thurstons,” she said as she bounded onto the wagon seat without his assistance. She frowned warily when she noticed a rifle and shotgun at her feet. “Are we expecting trouble?”
“I always expect trouble.” Logan plunked down on the seat. “This is still wide-open country where Mexican banditos, white outlaws and renegade Indians loot and plunder. Getting shot for Christmas is not on my wish list.”
A brisk north wind prompted Tori to fasten her jacket to ward off the chill. “I don’t recall having much trouble with desperadoes when I first came to Lone Ridge.”
“The area is more dangerous since the Rangers have moved their patrols northwest,” Logan explained as he headed southeast.
Tori touched his arm to draw his attention. “Before we go any farther down the road I want to apologize for making you uncomfortable the night we went out for supper then practiced dancing—”
He flung up his hand to forestall her. “No need to apologize. What happened was my fault.”
“Nonsense. I kissed you without warning and that started us off on the wrong foot,” she insisted.
Logan blew out his breath and said, “Look, let’s agree that we both got carried away. After what happened, I tried to persuade Gabe to replace me since we’re similar in size, stature, age, profession and background. But he insisted on staying home.”
Tori slumped dejectedly. Logan wanted to back out after she had practically thrown herself at him in a fit of lust. She had offended him and he probably thought his moonlighting job for Christmas was going to become more complicated than he originally anticipated. But Logan was much too honorable to go back on his word and abandon her.
“There is no need for you to pretend to find me intriguing or attractive until we arrive in Fort Worth.”
He glanced up sharply then frowned. “I didn’t say I—”
The report of a rifle shattered the crisp morning air. Logan grabbed the back of her head and shoved her to the floorboards.
“Stay down!” he commanded as he snapped the reins over the horse and launched off at breakneck speed.
Tori anchored herself to his legs as the wagon bounced over rough terrain. The jarring motion practically shook her teeth out of her head, but she huddled against Logan while several more shots rang out in the near distance. She craned her neck around the edge of the seat to see two Mexican desperadoes, dressed in serapes and sombreros, in hot pursuit. When she looked up at Logan, she noticed he’d clenched his teeth as he spared a quick glance over his shoulder to monitor the men’s approach.
“I didn’t know highwaymen got up this early in the morning—” She ducked when another bullet whistled overhead.
“I’ll try to take cover in the grove of cottonwood trees.” He fired off two quick shots. “Just hang on for a few more minutes.”
Logan didn’t appear the least bit flustered by the attack, merely annoyed by the inconvenience. Tori greatly admired his ability to remain so calm under fire. She, on the other hand, was rattled. It was her first ambush. Nevertheless, she drew in a bolstering breath and vowed to follow his lead. She grabbed the shotgun and plunked down on the seat.
“I said stay down,” he barked sharply.
“You aren’t hunkering down so I won’t either.”
“Can you handle a shotgun?” he asked as he plunged downhill toward the protection of the trees.
“If it’s loaded and ready to fire. I can’t guarantee I can hit what I aim at.”
“Just look vicious and convincing, is all I ask.”
Another shot zinged past them and plugged into the wagon bed. That was close, thought Tori. Another six inches and she would have been hit!
She braced herself when Logan turned sharply, sending the wagon into a skid. The banditos didn’t cease their attack but they veered west when Logan dropped the reins and began firing both peacemakers simultaneously.
“Blast away,” he ordered.
Tori secured the butt of the shotgun against her shoulder, took aim then pulled the trigger. The loud explosion made her ears ring. The backlash of the weapon knocked her off balance. She squealed in surprise when she did a back somersault over the seat and landed on her satchels in the wagon bed.
“You okay?” Logan asked without taking his eyes off the banditos who had halted just beyond pistol range, to shout tauntingly at him.
“Hands up, hombre,” one of the bandits called out. Then he commenced rattling in Spanish.
Tori couldn’t translate what the outlaw said or what Logan replied when he shouted back in rapid-fire Spanish. Obviously the highwaymen understood because they stared wide-eyed at Logan. When he grabbed the rifle and fired a shot, the skinny bandito yelped. He curled over his horse’s neck and grabbed his injured shooting arm. The next shot knocked the sombrero off the stout bandit’s dark head. He growled what Tori assumed to be a foul curse at Logan who responded in kind.
Determined not to appear the helpless female—a role she detested of her gender—she snatched up her shotgun, fired then braced herself for the painful kick against her shoulder.
“The next shot will be aimed at your gut!” she snarled threateningly.
“You don’t have a next shot, unless you reload,” Logan said aside. Then he handed over his rifle. “Go ahead. Give ’em hell, Tori.”
She did. Her shot sent dirt and pebbles splattering around both horses’ front hooves. The startled animals reared up then plunged forward, forcing the banditos to hang on or be catapulted through the air.
“I always want to be on your side when a fight breaks out,” Tori declared. She readjusted her cockeyed bonnet then plopped onto the wagon seat. “This delay isn’t going to cause us to miss our stagecoach connection, is it?”
“No.” Logan took time to look her over carefully, as if to assure himself that she was still in one piece.
She smiled brightly and said, “I’m fine. Not to worry. Adventure feeds my soul. That’s why I moved to Lone Ridge. Out here, women are not so confined to male expectations.” She paused then glanced at him. “I don’t know what you said to those banditos but they didn’t seem so cocksure of themselves afterward.”
Logan set aside the weapons then took up the reins to return to the road.
“What did those outlaws say to you?” she per
sisted.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Of course I do. Don’t make me twist your arm. Tell me.”
He huffed out his breath. “They said they would spare my life if I gave them my whore.”
“What!” Tori howled in outrage.
He grinned. “I told you that you didn’t want to know.”
“What did you say that struck a chord of alarm in them? And do not tell me that I don’t want to know because I most certainly do.”
“I told them you were a bona fide lady, not a whore. Then I told them where they could go and what they could do with themselves when they got there. Lastly, I promised to ride into Hades and strip the charred hide off their bodies.” He cast her a quick glance. “Anything else you want to know, sweetheart?”
“No, dear.” She settled her skirts around her. “I would have told them the same thing if they had threatened to take you away from me. And thank you for defending my honor. That was very gallant of you.”
“That’s me. Gallant as hell. And thank you.”
When Tori settled in for the ride to Shallow Springs, Logan urged the horse into a faster clip to make up for lost time. She had impressed him during the perilous confrontation. She hadn’t whimpered and wailed. She had tried to contribute to their defense.
Faint of heart she was not, he reminded himself.
Then he wondered how her parents could not be proud of her refreshing character, her accomplishments and her bravery.
Furthermore, if anyone referred to this strikingly attractive female as an ugly duckling at the soiree, Logan was going to pound them flat.
A few minutes later he realized that his feelings of inadequacy about rubbing shoulders with the upper crust of society during the holidays had dimmed in comparison to his crusade to make sure Tori was treated with the respect and admiration she richly deserved. She was her own woman and that counted for a great deal in the world according to Logan Daniels.
Tori was relieved that the stagecoach trip from Shallow Springs to the train depot in Purple Sage Hollow was uneventful. The instant the coach rolled to a halt, Logan clutched her hand, pulled her off the seat and into his waiting arms. Tori didn’t have time to savor the brush of her body against his masculine contours before he set her to her feet and stepped away.
Odd, she mused. He had been keeping his distance most of the day. It was as if he was trying to avoid physical contact. Had she done something else besides pounce on him during the dance lesson that offended him?
While Logan towed her along at a swift pace to reach the train depot, she wondered if forward, assertive women put him off, wondered if he preferred timid females.
The possibility disappointed her. She was nothing if not independent-minded, straightforward and ambitious. Some men felt threatened by spirited women. She had hoped Logan was not among them.
Logan dropped the carpetbags and satchels at her feet. “We have an hour before the train arrives,” he announced. “I have an errand to run before we board the train.”
She cast him a muddled frown. He didn’t say what the mysterious errand was. He simply lurched around and strode away. Surely he didn’t think he had to buy her a Christmas gift to keep up pretense. Anyway, she had taken care of that yesterday by purchasing a small rhinestone pin for herself and a gold-plated pocket watch for him, so they could exchange gifts Christmas morning.
Her thoughts trailed off when she noticed how much female attention Logan received as he cut an impressive swath on the boardwalk. He drew attention because of his towering height in a crowd. Clean-shaven, and wearing a trim fitting shirt and breeches that accentuated his brawny physique, he had women stopping and staring appreciatively at him as he strode past.
Tori smiled as he disappeared around the corner. An unprecedented sense of pride and possessiveness overwhelmed her. A moment later, she gave herself a mental pinch and reminded herself that Logan was only her holiday husband. The charade would end the instant they stepped onto the westbound train to return to Lone Ridge.
“Need some help with all your luggage, ma’am?”
Tori pivoted to see a well-dressed man of average size and stature, sporting a blond mustache and goatee, smiling rakishly at her. Here, she thought, was the shining example of the upper-class gent that had previously tried to court her because of her parents’ good standing in elite social circles. That type reeked of insincerity and hidden agendas. Watching the man ogle her, as if she was an appetizer for his upcoming Christmas feast, made her frown in irritation.
“Thank you, but no,” she replied stiffly. “I am not in need of any help.”
He sidled closer, all practiced charm and premeditated smiles. “Then perhaps we could share a seat on the train and get to know each other better, my dear.”
“I am not your dear,” she snapped then shooed him on his way. “Go pester someone else with your shallow charm.”
He opened his mouth to reply then his gaze lifted over her head. A second later, he spun on his well-shod heels and zipped into the depot, lickety-split.
Tori glanced over her shoulder to see what—or who—had sent the Casanova of the High Plains scurrying off like the rat he was. Amusement pursed her lips when she saw Logan looming behind her like the rock-solid peak of Lone Ridge. She had to admit that Logan was very good at giving the evil eye. If she didn’t know how gentle he could be when the mood suited him, she might have been intimidated.
When he eased around her to gather up their luggage, she watched him refocus on the gent who had taken a seat in the corner of the depot. The man fidgeted in his chair and looked everywhere except at Logan when he reacquainted him with The Look.
“Beautiful women are a lot of trouble because they attract too much attention,” he said as he gestured for her to follow him away from the crowd gathered beside the railroad tracks.
Tori stood there, rooted to the spot. “Beautiful? Me?”
Her voice fizzled out when he clasped her hand to shepherd her along beside him. When they were out of earshot of the milling crowd, he pivoted toward her.
“Yes, you are,” he insisted. “You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to know how attractive you are. I watched several men give you the once-over while I walked toward you.”
“I saw dozens of women eyeing you when you walked away,” she reported.
“That’s just because I’m taller than average and tower above the crowd,” he said dismissively.
She shook her head. “You are strikingly handsome and exceptionally masculine looking,” she complimented. “It was the first thing I noticed about you when I arrived in Lone Ridge—” She clamped down on her runaway tongue when Logan arched a thick brow and grinned devilishly.
The sound of a distant whistle, signaling the approach of the train, wiped the smile from Logan’s face. Bemused, Tori watched him dig into the breast pocket of his shirt. When he extended a shiny gold band, her jaw dropped open and she gaped at him in astonishment.
“It stands to reason that your family will expect to see a wedding band on your finger,” he explained. “This is the best ring Purple Sage Hollow has to offer.”
When he slipped the ring on her finger, it was a mite too big. She was still gaping at him when he tugged the ring off her finger.
“Wrong size. I’ll be right back.”
He took off like a shot then veered around the corner. Her heart squeezed in her chest, amazed that he’d purchased a wedding ring for her to wear. She had overlooked that aspect of her ruse, but Logan had spent his own money to make certain her holiday charade appeared authentic. She wanted to kiss him for his thoughtful attention to detail.
But you are not going to kiss him, she told herself. That’s what scared him off. She was paying him to portray her husband. Just because she was becoming emotionally involved too quickly didn’t mean he shared her growing affection. No, Tori reminded herself. Logan Daniels was a man trained to serve and protect. It was second nature to him. When he had a job to do, h
e did it. She was his job for the Christmas holidays and she better not let herself forget it.
She watched Logan cut another impressive swath through the crowd to rejoin her. She smiled when he slid the new gold band on her finger. It was a perfect fit.
“Thank you,” she murmured, stunned by the odd sensation that trickled through her. The ring made their marriage seem all too real. A lump clogged her throat when she peered into his obsidian eyes. A jolt of sizzling awareness riveted her and she tried desperately to tamp it down. “I’ll repay you for this.”
“No, the ring is on me.”
A vision of Logan naked, wearing the gold ring on his pinky finger, blazed across her mind, making her blush candy-apple-red.
He eyed her curiously for a moment then added, “You paid for the train ticket. Fair is fair.”
Shortly thereafter, the train pulled into the station and they boarded as man and wife. During the trip, Tori spun the gold band on her finger and wondered what it would be like to be truly and legally married to Marshal Logan Daniels.
It would never happen, she told herself sensibly, as she peered out the window to admire the rolling hills. Logan and Gabe only planned to be in Lone Ridge until they were hired to tame another town. Logan would only belong to her while she was home for Christmas. Expecting anything more from him was inviting disappointment, she told herself realistically.
“Good Lord,” Logan croaked in disbelief when he got his first look at the Thurstons’ grand castle in Fort Worth. Home? He silently scoffed at the inaccurate description. Mansion was more like it. Hell, he predicted that only the president of these United States lived in a palace equal to this estate on the edge of town.
Tori had grown up here, surrounded by luxury and every comfort imaginable. Logan had lived in a one-room shack and barely had enough food to stave off starvation. Their backgrounds had been drastically different.
“Logan? What’s wrong?” She studied him worriedly.
Logan gave himself a mental shake then tried to shrug nonchalantly. “This is quite a place. A Christmas wreath on the door. Mistletoe hanging on the marble-tiled porch. Can’t image what bells and whistles your father neglected to include here.”
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