by Jillian Hart
A pile of collapsed roofing burned in a heap just a few feet away from him.
“Kyle!” She dropped to her knees at his side. “Kyle, wake up!” She slung the wet coat over him, using the wool to wipe a layer of dark soot from his face.
His eyes blinked open.
“Kyle!” She coughed, leaning over him as heat buffeted her from all directions.
Constance’s voice registered in his dazed mind. Slowly she came into focus: her glossy eyes, wet hair, a wall of fire blazing behind her.
She’d come into the burning stable. Above them, weakened timbers creaked and crackled, about to give way. He sat up, the throbbing in his skull nothing compared to the wild beat of his heart and the need to get her out of there. He pulled the coat over her head and lunged as embers scattered all around them. Rolling to his feet, he lifted her as he stood and ducked through the side door as the rest of the roof came crashing down—sparks and debris spraying him.
He ran to the end of the large corral and dropped to his knees.
Both of them collapsed onto their backs, coughing and gasping for breath.
“Con, are you all right?” Kyle rolled over, raising onto his elbow. He pushed her long curls away from her face. The light from the flaming barn turned her eyes to a deep shade of amber.
She framed his face in her hands. “How’s your head?”
Did the woman never worry about herself? She was afraid of fire, and yet she’d run into hell’s own inferno to save him.
His lips closed over hers, urgent, insistent. God save him, he couldn’t help himself. Her arms locked around him and Constance took bold possession of his mouth.
He began to hear voices through the buzzing in his ears. Stella was shouting his name.
“They may need a moment to catch their breath,” Günter said from somewhere behind them.
It took another moment for him to release her, both of them dragging for air as their lips parted. Kyle was shocked to see the number of townsfolk standing beyond the fence. He heard shouts of others at the house, yelling for more water.
“What the hell happened?” asked Günter.
Kyle pushed himself up and held his hand out to Constance.
“Had some trouble with those interlopers.” She sat up and put her hand in his, allowing him to help her to her feet. Her sopping-wet gown clung to her feminine curves, leaving little to the imagination. He quickly lifted her into his arms. Ten little muddy toes poked out from the dirty brown hem of her nightdress.
“You ran into a burning barn barefoot? ”
“I had slippers, but I lost them.”
“Nothing hurts?”
She shook her head and smoothed his hair away from his face.
“What about you?”
His head throbbed and his heart still raced fit to burst, but she was in his arms. “I’ll be all right.”
“I have a blanket,” Stella called out, stretching a quilt wide as he approached.
“Thanks.” The moment he set Constance on her feet he pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders and hugged her against him.
Her strong grip on his waist eased some of the fear still raging inside him. Seeing her face, those flames rolling behind her—
“Anyone hurt?” Günter asked from beside him.
“Two dead out back. Ned Chandler’s in the stable on his way to hell.”
“A Chandler?” Günter asked.
“The one I arrested in Montana. Billy’s older brother.”
“Jim found your young foal and is taking her to the school stable. You can stay at my place. Wagon’s out on the road. I can take you to the house with Stella and I’ll come back.”
“Thanks.”
“Judging by what me and half the town just witnessed, there will be another wedding to plan.”
“I’ll marry her, but right now I just want to get Connie somewhere safe and dry.”
Constance stiffened against Kyle’s hold, his tired tone resurrecting Ned Chandler’s voice: “Always the Good Samaritan…
Bet you even plan to marry that little cripple.”
Kyle had set the fire…and he hadn’t told her. Instead he’d made her love him, when his feelings were derived from guilt. She couldn’t think of a worse form of pity!
Tears blurred her vision. “No,” she said, pushing against him.
“Constance? Honey, what is it?”
“I’m not marrying you.” She turned away from their shocked expressions and started walking toward the road. Kyle caught up to her, his hand closing over her arm.
“Con—”
She stopped, shrugging off his hold. “You lied to me.”
“When?”
“You made me believe you really cared about me. When all along it was guilt.”
“You’re wrong.”
“You were going to marry his sister? ”
“Victoria wasn’t like the rest of them, but she couldn’t stand up to them either.”
“Where is she?”
“Dead. She was killed in a shoot-out a few days after she ran off with her brothers.”
“That’s why you became a marshal, for revenge. ”
“Partially,” he admitted. “Going after Victoria’s brothers opened my eyes to the multitude of outlaws just like the Chandlers, not caring who they hurt to get what they want, and not enough lawmen to bring them in. None of this has anything to do with my feelings for you.”
“Did you set the fire?”
His pained expression answered her question. “I didn’t know you were inside.”
“I know that. I wouldn’t have blamed you, not for what happened in Montana.” Tears streaked hotly across her cheeks.
“But I can’t forgive you for deceiving me this way.”
“Constance—”
“The last thing I want is to be bound to a man who looks at me and sees a victim.”
“And I keep telling you, sweetheart, I’m not that nice. I’ve never seen you as anything less than a courageous woman.
Honest to God, Constance, I think I fell in love with you in that boardinghouse.”
“When I was on fire? That proves it!”
“Not on fire, fighting fire. It’s in situations like that when you really see inside a person. You weren’t shrinking in fear, you were giving all you had and worrying about those who’d left you behind.
I love you, Constance. The woman who has the gumption to travel clear to the middle of nowhere to teach a classroom full of rowdy timber rats. A woman who races into a burning barn despite her own fear. The same woman who wasn’t afraid to call me out when I was insulting and overstepped my bounds.And maybe,” he added, his brow pinched with annoyance, “I like to be saved once in a while. No matter what, I know you’ve got my back.”
She laughed and sniffed at her tears. “I do.”
He took a step closer, his arms looping gently around her.
“Marry me.”
How often had she envisioned her cowboy’s bride—and it had never been her. “For two years I believed you were married, and in my mind your bride was perfect. ”
“And she is,” he said, kissing her lightly. “You are the perfect bride for me.”
Her bright smile warmed his heart. She drew him to her lips and kissed him with a passion that was going to drive him mad before they were wed.
* * * * *
ISBN: 978-1-4268-3459-2
STETSONS, SPRING AND WEDDING RINGS
Copyright © 2009 by Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows: ROCKY MOUNTAIN COURTSHIP
Copyright © 2009 by Jill Strickler COURTING MISS PERFECT
Copyright © 2009 by Dorothy Howell COURTED BY THE COWBOY
Copyright © 2009 by Stacey Kayne
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