Brazen (34 page)

Illuminated by the pale moonlight coming through the
window, Casey had watched in silent awe as Michael undressed. He was beautiful. There was no doubt about it.
His shoulders were broad, his chest tightly muscled, tapering to his lean waist and

She'd dragged her gaze back up higher, not wanting to
risk seeing more of him than she could handle right then.
Only when Michael had climbed into bed with her did
she shut her eyes. She lay tense and unmoving for long
hours, waiting for sleep to overtake her, but haunted by
the fiery, erotic memory of the touch of his lips on her
neck.

Michael lay on his half of the bed, staring up at the
ceiling and trying to ignore Casey's nearness. At first, he'd
resented the pillow between them, but now he realized
it was a good thing. He didn't need to wake up in the
middle of the night and find her curled up against him.
He would keep to their arrangement. He was a man of
his word, but he finally admitted to himself that he was
only human, after all.

Sleep was long in coming for Michael.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," said Brian Kennebeck, the justice of the peace in Hard Luck as he completed the ceremony that united Nick and Anne in
matrimony. He smiled warmly at the couple. "I hope
you'll be very happy."

"We will be," Nick assured him.

Nick looked down at Anne, who stood by his side smiling up at him. He took her in his arms.

"Mrs. Paden," he said softly before he kissed her to seal
their vows.

"I like the sound of that," she said.

"So do I."

They left the office and stepped outside into the night.
It was late and the town was quiet. Everything seemed
peaceful.

Nick and Anne shared a knowing look.

"There's nothing I want to do more than take you back
to my hotel room right now, but I think we'd better go
find your parents and give them our news first."

"You're right. It wouldn't be good if my father came
looking for you with a shotgun tonight."

Nick drew her close and kissed her hungrily one last
time. Then they hurried off toward her home, eager to
share the joy of their good news.

Anne knew now that sometimes fairy tales really did
come true.

Rosalie was tired. It had been a long day, and she was
more than ready to retire for the night.

"The Donovan wedding really cut into our business tonight," Bill said as they closed down the saloon,

"Big weddings like that don't happen often in this
town," she remarked. "Everybody who was invited must
have shown up."

"Things will be better next weekend. It's payday."

"We could use a little excitement around here."

"Good excitement," Bill cautioned, thinking back to the
previous weekend and her trouble with John McQueen.

"You're right about that."

"Good night, Rosalie. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night."

She locked up after he'd gone and went on upstairs to
her room. It was dark as she let herself into her private quarters, but she wasn't worried. She knew where everything was and went over to the dresser to light the lamp
there. As the flame flickered to life, she lifted her gaze to
the mirror and went completely still at what she saw reflected there.

John was sitting on her bed behind her, and he was
watching her carefully.

"John!" she gasped, startled. She spun around to face
him.

"I've been waiting for you," he said quietly as he got
up and walked toward her.

"How did you get in here?" she demanded.

He laughed coldly at her. "I've been here often enough
to know how to get in without being seen."

Rosalie watched him coming toward her, and she
wasn't sure whether to try to run away or stay. She'd loved
John for so long that it was hard for her to accept that he
truly was as vicious as he'd been the past weekend.

"What do you want?" she asked warily.

He stopped before her and smiled thinly. "You, of
course."

The week before, she would have fallen into his arms,
but now she held herself back. "Why?"

"What do you mean, `why'?" he asked, reaching out to
her. "I haven't seen you in a week. I missed you."

Rosalie could tell he'd been drinking heavily, for his
words were slurred. She deliberately eluded him and kept
a distance between them. "I'd like to believe that. I want
to believe that, but--"

"But what?" he asked, his barely controlled fury grow ing even hotter. How dare she reject him this way?

"After what happened between us, I don't know if I can
trust you anymore."

"Of course you can trust me," he insisted smoothly, already fantasizing about what he was going to do to her
when he got his hands on her.

"Then many me, John." She threw the words at him in
a demand. "We've been together for a long time now,
and I've always hoped that one day we would get married. So, if you really care about me, marry me."

"What?" He stared at Rosalie as if she'd lost her mind.
"You expected me to marry you? Why would I? You're
nothing but a slut! You're a whore."

"Why, you-" All the anger she'd felt toward John
erupted then. She swung at him and slapped him across
the face.

Rosalie felt good for a moment, but her moment of
triumph was brief.

John reacted with a violent rage. He grabbed her arm
and jerked her to him.

"Who do you think you are?" he snarled. His grip on
her was bruising. The hatred he felt was evident in the
threatening look on his face.

"Let me go! Get out of here before I scream!"

"You can scream all you want. There's no one to hear
you," he said, yanking her even closer to him. "We're all
alone here."

Rosalie managed one cry for help before John began
to beat her. His intent was vicious and savage. She represented everything he hated; she was the embodiment of Casey and her rejection. He was going to make Rosalie
pay for the sins of all women.

"Why are you doing this?" she whimpered, cowering
weakly on the floor before him.

"Because I hate you!"

"But, John"

"I hate you and all the other stupid women in this
world!" he spat at her. "How dare Casey many Donovan!"

"You cared about Casey Turner?" Rosalie was trying to
understand his full-blown fury, hoping to find a way to
reach him and make him stop.

"I cared about her ranch! It was bad enough that Frank
Donovan didn't die in the ambush, but---"

"You're the one who shot him?" Rosalie gasped.

"There are people who can be hired to do the dirty
work," he sneered, dragging her up to her feet. He liked
seeing the terror in her eyes. He liked having this power
over her.

He hit her again with all his might. Rosalie fell backwards and crashed against the nightstand, hitting her
head. She collapsed onto the floor and lay unmoving.

John stared down at her, seeing the blood seeping from
the injury to her head, and he smiled.

He turned and left the room.

Rosalie was dead, and no one would ever know he was
responsible. His only regret was that she wasn't Casey
Turner.

John left the saloon by the back way. No one saw him. Casey awoke with the dawn. She was still exhausted, for
she hadn't fallen soundly asleep until the wee hours of
the morning. Michael's presence beside her had made
rest next to impossible. And she was supposed to spend
the rest of her life this way. He was sleeping soundly, so
she slipped out of bed and went into the other room to
dress. She had no doubts about what she was going to
put on now that it was daylight. She donned her usual
work clothes.

Ready for the new day, Casey considered her spotless
kitchen and wondered what she could make for breakfast.

Bill Clark always came by to check on Rosalie on Sundays. He was surprised to find she wasn't up yet when he
let himself into the Sundown late that morning. He moved
around downstairs, looking things over, then decided
he'd go up and knock on her door to make certain everything was all right.

The fact that she didn't answer troubled him. Bill
thought she might have gotten up and gone out early, but
he somehow knew that wasn't the case. Worried, he
opened the bedroom door and stood stock-still for a moment at the sight before him.

"Rosalie!"

He ran to kneel beside her and took her in his arms,
fearing the worst. Relief flooded through him when he
realized she was still breathing.

"Thank God."

He laid her back down and ran from the building. He encountered two men on the street and directed one to
get Dr. Murray; the other he sent for the sheriff. Racing
back to Rosalie's room, he waited by her side for them
to show up.

Dr. Murray arrived first. The two men carried Rosalie to
her bed and he set about tending her injuries. She had
just regained consciousness when Sheriff Montgomery
got there.

"Sheriff," Rosalie said in a voice barely above a whisper.

The lawman hurried to her side.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, kneeling beside the
bed so he could hear her answer.

"McQueen and, Sheriff "Rosalie was so weak she
could barely get the words out. "He's responsible for the
Donovan shooting, too."

"How do you know?"

"He admitted it to me last night." She collapsed back
on her pillow.

"So McQueen's the one who shot Frank Donovan,"
Sheriff Montgomery said in amazement.

"No," Rosalie whispered. "He hired someone."

Dr. Murray took over again as Bill walked out of the
room with the sheriff.

"McQueen hired someone to kill Frank, and he beat a
defenseless woman almost to death," the bartender
ground out, wanting to seek some revenge of his own.

"I wonder if Frank Donovan has left town yet," Montgomery said.

"We can check at the hotel. Do you want me to ride
with you to get McQueen?"

"Yes. Thanks. I've got a feeling I'm going to need all
the deputies I can get today."

The two men made their way to the hotel.

"The Donovans are still here," Ernest Williams said.

"What room are they in?"

The clerk told him, and they went to tell Frank the
news.

"I don't believe it!" Elizabeth exclaimed, looking from
Nick to Anne as they visited her in her room that morning.
"You eloped last night!"

"That's right," Nick affirmed. "Mr. Kennebeck married
us."

"This is so exciting!" she went on, giving Anne an impulsive hug. "What did your mother say?"

"She was thrilled for us, too," Anne answered.

"You'd better wire your parents right away," Elizabeth
told Nick. "They'll be delighted for you, too. And, of
course, you have to let Michael and Casey know."

They were all discussing the best way to handle everything when a knock came at the door. Nick answered it
to find Sheriff Montgomery outside with the bartender
from the Sundown saloon.

"I need to speak with Frank," the sheriff announced.

"Come in, please," Nick invited, holding the door wide.

"I've got some news for you."

Frank was suddenly worried, for the lawman's expression was very serious. "What's happened?"

"We've just learned who was behind your shooting."

Frank went still as he stared at the sheriff. "Who was
it?"

"John McQueen." Sheriff Montgomery quickly explained what had happened overnight and what he'd
learned from Rosalie.

Elizabeth gasped in horror at his news. "McQueen? But
why? Why would he want to kill Frank and hurt Rosalie
so badly?"

"I don't know yet, but I'm on my way to the Royal to
make some arrests. 1 wanted to let you know."

"I'm riding with you," Nick insisted. "Is there time to
stop at the Circle D and get Michael? I know he'd want
to go along with us, too."

"Yes. We can do that," Sheriff Montgomery agreed.
"You have a gun?"

Nick nodded. "It's in my room. I'll be right back."

Anne went with him. She waited nervously as he
strapped on his gun belt. She had never seen him so grim.

"Nick, be careful." She went to him and pressed a desperate kiss to his lips.

"Don't worry," he said as he put her from him. "I will
be. You stay with Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Frank. I'll
meet you at the Circle D once we're done."

It was late when Michael awakened to find Casey gone
from their bed. He was surprised that he'd slept so long,
considering how restless he'd been all night. He got up,
dressed and went looking for his bride.

Michael didn't know why, but he was surprised when he found her dressed in her working clothes down at the
stable taking care of the horses.

"Casey?"

"Oh, good morning, Michael," she said, looking up
from where she was cleaning out a stall.

"What are you doing?"

Casey shrugged and came out to speak with him, carrying the pitchfork. "Working. Why?"

"You're my wife now," he began. "Wives don't"