Renegade Bride

by Barbara Ankrum

  Frantic, Creed tried reasoning. "My father never wronged you, dammit. He was a friend to your mother. She would have taken you if she could have.. Your father wouldn't—"

  "Inyela, batard!" he returned in a confused mixture of Sioux and French. "Do not speak of the dead!"

  Creed shook his head, taking a step forward. "She is only dead to you because your father wanted you to believe it so. She's alive and living with the Sioux."

  "Saa-aaa!" LaRousse edged backward. "I told you not to move." He gasped. "You theenk zees ees about ze bitch who whelped me? Hah! Eet ees for Étienne, you murdering dog. And for my father, 'oos life you destroyed."

  "Then fight me fair. Let her go," Creed rasped. "She means nothing to you."

  "Ah, but she does to you. I keel her... I keel you, no? I see eet een your eyes."

  Creed's breath came in heaving gasps. Don't. Please, God, don't..."You hurt her, LaRousse, and I'll hunt you down to the ends of the earth. There will be no rock low enough for you to hide."

  "You can try... you 'ave tried, Devereaux. And you 'ave failed. You will always fail, because you are no match for me." Pierre moved the gun away from Mariah for a brief second to grab the reins of the horse behind him. A shot rang out of the darkness, jerking his head backward, erasing everything but ghastly surprise from his expression. Mariah screamed and stumbled forward as his hands fell away. The half-breed pitched backward with a hiss, dead before he struck the ground.

  Too relieved to question where the bullet had come from, Creed ran to her as her knees buckled. Looping his arms around her back, he gathered her in the circle of his embrace. She clung to him, trembling, wrapping her arms around his solid strength. She pressed her face against his shirt, inhaling his scent to reassure herself he was alive.

  "Oh, Creed... Creed..."

  "It's all right, love. It's all over. You'll be all right now. I'm here," he soothed. As he spoke the words, the truth hit him. LaRousse was dead. It was finally over.

  Twisting at the ropes still at his wrists, he called, "Jesse, bring your knife and cut these ropes off m—" The rest died on his lips as he caught sight of the man leading his horse slowly through the darkness toward them, his smoking rifle still in his hand.

  Mariah felt the sudden tension in Creed's body and she looked up. "Seth—"

  Seth's battered expression was inscrutable as he came toward them. His walk was hitched with a limp as if he, too, were in pain. He stopped a few feet away, watching Jesse slice the hemp that locked Creed's arms around Mariah.

  "Are you all right?" Seth asked her quietly.

  She nodded, fighting back tears. "You came. I... I didn't think you would."

  "I almost didn't."

  But his eyes, she thought, revealed, he would have regretted that. She watched the muscles in his jaw bunch as his gaze slid to Creed, assessing the damage he'd done to him earlier. The smoldering embers of the anger that had wrought such destruction were still there, brooding just below the surface.

  "Thank the Lord you came when you did," Wade said, slapping a hand on Seth's shoulder. Seth nodded but barely acknowledged either him or Jesse. His gaze was fixed on the two people who had turned his life upside down.

  Sensing what was to come, Jesse tossed the hemp aside. "I think we'd better start loading up these bodies," he told Wade and the two walked over to join Pete, who was tying Snake's hands behind him.

  Seth's eyes strayed to Creed's swollen hand. "It looks broken," he said without a shred of pity.

  Creed's mouth curved slightly as he inspected it. "On your jaw," he admitted. Creed nodded toward LaRousse's body. "That was one hell of a shot."

  "Yeah... for a blind man." A note of bitterness sounded in his voice.

  Creed shook his head, knowing he wasn't talking about the shot. "Seth... I—"

  "She came to me after you left, you know," Seth said, cutting off the apology he couldn't bear to hear. "For a minute, I actually... hoped she'd come to ask for my forgiveness or to offer some kind of reasonable explanation. That it had just been a moment of insanity.

  "But she came for you... to tell me you were in trouble and to... to beg me,"—he snorted—"no, shame me into helping you. She was quite brave, considering my state of mind. And quite persuasive."

  Mariah stared at the ground, clinging to the strength of Creed's arm.

  "You see," Seth continued thickly, "it took a few minutes to realize I'd never inspired that kind of passion in her. Not even close. And I realized she... loves you in a way she's never loved me."

  Creed opened his mouth as if to object, but grim-faced, Seth stopped him from trying to deny it. "No, it's true. I can see that now. You two actually did me a favor," he added with a growl of angry laughter. "I would have made her miserable and never known why."

  Creed's eyes darkened with regret. "It seems inadequate to say I'm sorry for all that's happened, or thank you for saving her life just now. I appear destined to remain in your debt, mon ami," he said, letting his arm slide from Mariah's waist.

  "To hell with your debts, Devereaux," Seth snapped, surprising him. "If you're looking for absolution, don't. I'm not ready to give that. Maybe I never will be. But just to set the record straight, not everything in life comes with a price tag—like saving your fool neck or hers. But if you must, consider those debts paid. I'll send you your share of the store in full when you let me know where you settle."

  Abruptly, Seth stalked to his horse, shoved his rifle into its scabbard, and mounted. Gathering up his reins, his gaze lingered on Mariah for a moment, then slid back to Creed. "You take care of her. If you hurt her, I'll kill you myself."

  "Seth—" Mariah called out as he reined to go. He turned back to her. She closed the distance between them, but didn't touch him. "Thank you."

  Taking a deep breath, he gave her a curt nod, then kicked his horse back in the direction of town.

  As he disappeared into the night, Mariah watched a huge piece of her life vanish and felt an acute sense of loss. Slowly, she turned back to Creed. His beautiful, battered eyes were filled with an emotion she couldn't read. It was different and it terrified her. She wanted to run to him, hold him until he promised never to let her go. But she didn't. He'd said he loved her in a moment of despair, but would he feel the same way without the noose around his neck? Regardless of what Seth thought, she'd never try to force herself on Creed.

  Jesse walked up beside Creed, leading Buck. Wade and Pete stood a little apart, holding the leads of the gangs' horses bearing the lifeless bodies of LaRousse, Quincy, and Field. Snake was slumped over his saddle, bleeding, with his hands tied behind his back.

  "We'll be heading back to Virginia City now," Jesse told Creed, scratching Mahkwi behind the ears. "You comin'?"

  Creed shook his head slowly, his eyes on Mariah.

  Jesse raised one blond eyebrow. "Mariah? You want me to round up that mare you rustled and bring her back for you?"

  "She'll ride with me," Creed said, never taking his eyes from her. "We have some talking to do." His look was smoldering, possessive, absolute. It stole her breath away and along with it, any impulse to argue. Her heart leapt with hope.

  A twinkle of understanding shone in Jesses' eyes. "Good luck to you both," he said, shaking Creed's good hand. "I've decided to leave in the morning for Ohio to see my folks. So, I guess this is goodbye."

  Creed sent him a knowing glance, his eyes warming. "Thanks for everything, Jesse. Keep in touch."

  "I will," Jesse replied. Slipping his hat off, he walked over and planted a kiss on Mariah's cheek. "You take care of him, you hear?" he whispered so only she heard it.

  She smiled tremulously and squeezed his hands. "If he'll let me. Goodbye, Jesse."

  They said their farewells to Wade and Pete and watched them head down the valley to round up the horses they'd left behind. When their dark silhouettes merged with the fog, Creed turned back to her, his expression unreadable.

  She held his gaze, unsure of what to do. "Creed, you don't ha
ve to say anything... I mean, I know what Seth expects us to do, but... I understand if—"

  "I have a lot of things to say to you, ma petite," he interrupted, those compelling sea green eyes boring into hers. "And none of them has anything to do with Seth." He reached for her hand.

  She took it, but didn't dare come any closer until she'd said her piece.

  "You should know, I planned on going back to Chicago. I wouldn't have married him... even if that kiss had never happened. I couldn't go through with it, knowing how I felt about you."

  He stared at her in the dark, his gaze caressing her hair, her eyes, her face. "You couldn't?"

  She shook her head. "And I can still go back, if..."

  "Go back?" he repeated with a look of disbelief. "Mon Dieu, Mariah, when I came here tonight, when I thought LaRousse had you, I was out of my mind." He ran a shaky hand over his mouth. "He was right when he said if he'd killed you, he'd have killed me, too. If... if anything had happened to you... I—"

  He drew her to him, pulling her head against his chest. "I love you, mon coeur," he said fiercely. "You're part of me, just as I'm part of you. It took me a long time to accept it, but I've known it from the first moment we touched. I was a fool to think I could ever walk away from you. Don't leave me, Mariah."

  Joy leapt to her eyes. "I don't want to go. I never wanted to. I went to your room tonight to beg you not to leave. To tell you that I loved you—"

  Creed's mouth swooped down on hers, covering the last of her confession. Her lips tasted sweet, like freedom. His heart thudded against his burning ribs as her fingertips skimmed his back, drawing him closer. She was his, le bon Dieu... she was his.

  Their tongues mated—warm, seeking, possessing.

  He drew her against him, deepening the kiss, slashing his lips against hers, savoring the feel of her body flush against him, putting guilt and regret behind them. He ignored the pain in his mouth and concentrated on the fullness of his heart.

  They kissed again and again under the full moon in the swirling fog, like two people starved, sharing breath back and forth until they had run out of air and were forced to draw apart.

  "Say you'll marry me, Mariah," his lips whispered against hers.

  She laughed, tears stinging her eyes. "You big idiot. I've been trying to get you to say that for days."

  One corner of his battered mouth rose, his breath coming rapidly. "It takes some of us longer than others."

  "Of course I'll marry you," she said, throwing her arms around him. He groaned low as she squeezed his ribs. Instinctively, she pulled back. "Oh! Did I hurt you?"

  He didn't let her go. Instead, he pulled her closer, grinding his hips against hers to demonstrate the true extent of his discomfort. "Ahh..." he groaned again, shuddering at her touch. "If pain was ever pleasure..."

  She smiled, staring into the dear eyes that looked into her own with such passion. "I love you, Creed Devereaux. I'll love you 'til the day I die."

  His eyes sparkled knowingly. "Ah, bon, because that will be a very long time, ma petite."

  Reaching up, she brushed a kiss along his jawline, loving the shudder her touch invoked. "And what else do you see for us in that crystal ball of yours, my love? What will become of us?"

  "Whatever we want, mon coeur, whatever we want."

  Creed didn't tell her about that little girl with the ebony hair and sea green eyes, or about the other images he glimpsed when her touch traveled through him. Some things were better left to discovery.

  A gentle wind swirled and the heavy mist lifted, revealing the clear, moonlit landscape. Creed could see beyond the horizon into his own heart, and for the first time, knew that he didn't stand alone. Sensing there would be a thousand wonderful discoveries in the years ahead, he tightened his arms around the woman he loved.

  Creed Devereaux wasn't a man to ignore a feeling.

  The End

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  RENEGADE'S KISS

  Wild Western Hearts Series

  Book Three

  Excerpt from

  Renegade's Kiss

  Wild Western Hearts Series

  Book Three

  by

  Barbara Ankrum

  Bestselling Author

  RENEGADE'S KISS

  Reviews & Accolades

  "Ms. Ankrum has a gift for characterization and a unique voice that will speak to many readers' hearts."

  ~Kathe Robin, Romantic Times

  He rose out of the water, clothes clinging to him like second skin, sun-bleached hair slicked back and wet. The endless work of summer had left him taut and hard—the lines usually hidden by his loose-fitting clothes were suddenly evident. Even his thighs, she thought, looked as if they'd been sculpted out of granite. Water lapped at his legs and sparkled on his skin. He took a step closer to her.

  Andrea stared at the hand he held out to her and had second thoughts. Beyond the amused twinkle in his eyes, she saw something more. Something predatory, hungry. But she was feeling reckless and at the moment, a little wild. So, she reached out and put her hand in his.

  His skin was cool from the water, but his touch was hot. He pulled her effortlessly from the water. So effortlessly, in fact, that her momentum sent her colliding into him. She gasped the moment her nipples made contact with his chest. He was flame and ice at once, friction and smooth solid mass. And the moment her hips pressed up against his she encountered the undeniable hardness at the precise point where their bodies joined. The realization took her breath away and frightened her more than any words he might have spoken.

  Spreading her hands across the wall of his chest for balance, she absorbed the racing thud of his heartbeat, then pushed back. Jesse released her almost reluctantly. The suction of their wet clothes made a naughty sound.

  Yet his eyes held not a trace of apology. Instead, he gazed at her with a look that set her bloodstream on fire. His chest rose and fell unevenly, and his eyes only strayed from hers long enough to drift lazily to the front of her blouse where the water had left it all but transparent.

  "I guess," she said, covering her chest with her arms, "this wasn't really such a good idea."

  He didn't answer. He only stared at her. Shaken, she watched his eyes change color from sky blue to a smoky lapis.

  "Maybe," he suggested, "we should go."

  "Maybe," she agreed, but neither of them moved.

  "Jesse—"

  He put one silencing finger to her lips, then traced his knuckle down the hollow of her cheek and beneath her chin. He tilted her face up to him. "Do you know how you make me feel, Andi Mae?"

  She shook her head, mesmerized by the intensity of his stare.

  "Alive. For the first time in years, I feel like I'm part of something again." His thumb burned a path across her lips.

  She closed her eyes. Weakness stole the strength from her knees. "Jesse..."

  "I want you, Andi. I want you so much I ache with it. So much I can't think straight half the time."

  Her heart raced and plunged like a frightened thing seeking escape. But escape was the last thing on her mind. Pressing her cheek into his cupping palm, she murmured, "This is all wrong—"

  "Is it, Andi? Maybe it’s the first right thing I've done in years."

  Renegade's Kiss

  Wild Western Hearts Series

  Book Three

  by
>
  Barbara Ankrum

  ~

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  Renegade's Kiss

  from your favorite eBook Retailer,

  visit Barbara Ankrum's eBook Discovery Author Page

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  In another life, Barbara Ankrum was a successful commercial actress in Hollywood, going on auditions while she and her husband raised their two children. At some point, on the way to an audition apparently, it occurred to her that in order to get her creative life in hand, she ought to write a novel. This epiphany sprang directly from her love of romance novels and an obsession with all things Western. After selling the first book, a Western historical, she left casting directors behind and never looked back.

  Barbara's bestselling books have been twice nominated for Romance Writers of America's prestigious RITA award and have won numerous other awards. She also writes contemporaries for Harlequin Intrigue under her own name and for Harlequin Blaze under the pseudonym, Carrie Hudson. After all these years, she still believes in happy endings and feels very lucky to be able to do what she does. The kids are grown now, but Barbara and her husband still live in Southern California with their two cats and a scruffy, unrepentant dog who will, no doubt, find her way into one of Barbara's books soon.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7