# The Marshal Takes a Bride

Renee Ryan

Indulge your fantasies of delicious Regency Rakes, fierce Viking warriors and rugged Highlanders. Be swept away into a world of intense passion, lavish settings and romance that burns brightly through the centuriesU. S. Marshal Trey Scott is fixin' to walk down the aisle just as soon as his stubborn bride-to-be agrees to say "I do. "Katherine Taylor's five-year-old sister and an orphanage full of children are depending on her. So why won't the pretty schoolteacher marry him to save her tarnished reputation? Granted, Trey isn't willing to abandon his quest to avenge his first wife's murder.His name alone will protect Katherine until he returns, but she thinks he should leave vengeance to a higher power. Will the sacrifice demanded by the woman he loves be too great to bear. . . or will it be Trey's ultimate redemption?

## Underneath her schoolteacher starch, Katherine Taylor was a lovely, courageous bundle of beauty.

Even when they clashed, Trey admired her moral fortitude and persistence. She’d triumphed over a scandalous childhood. She was, quite frankly, a woman worthy of his respect.

With the wind snapping tendrils of black hair from her confining hairstyle, she looked like an avenging angel sent to demand his reckoning.

It was always like this between them—volatile, unpredictable, confusing—more so over the last few months.

Alarm spread through him, the reaction shocking him. The corresponding ache in his gut warned him that he’d made a mistake challenging Miss Taylor this time.

“Relent…Marshal,” she spoke.

The impossible had happened. Trey Scott, defender of justice, protector of women and children, had just suffered defeat. At the hands of a schoolmarm.

## RENEE RYAN

Renee Ryan grew up in a small Florida beach town. To entertain herself during countless hours of “laying-out” she read all the classics. It wasn’t until the summer between her sophomore and junior years at Florida State University that she read her first romance novel. Hooked from page one, she spent hours consuming one book after another while working on the best (and last!) tan of her life.

Two years later, armed with a degree in Economics and Religion, she explored various career opportunities, including stints at a Florida theme park, a modeling agency and a cosmetic conglomerate. She moved on to teach high school economics, American government and Latin while coaching award-winning cheerleading teams. Several years later, with an eclectic cast of characters swimming around in her head, she began seriously pursuing a writing career.

She lives with her husband, two children and one ornery cat in Georgia.

## The Marshal Takes a Bride. Renee Ryan


www.millsandboon.co.uk

Avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.

—Romans 12:19

To my critique partners, Cindy Kirk and Terry Hager. You have no idea how much I appreciate you both. And to my twin, Robin. Thank you for showing endless mercy and forgiveness to a sister who loves you dearly but fails you often. And to my mother, Elsie, who went home to the Lord before she had a chance to read this one. I miss you, Mom!

## Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Questions for Discussion

## Chapter One

Denver, Colorado, June 1880

Cornered and nearly out of ideas, U.S. marshal Trey Scott refused to consider retreat. Not while he had a five-year-old little girl counting on him to triumph against the misery that assailed her. What had started as a mere game to the others was a matter of tragic proportions to the child.

Trey would not let her down.

Shivering, Molly Taylor pressed her tiny body closer to him. “You gotta save me, Mr. Trey.”

Those big round eyes and that trembling lower lip punched through the last remnants of his resolve to remain neutral in this standoff. He would stick by the kid throughout this battle of hers.

Softening his expression, Trey knuckled a long black braid off her shoulder. “I won’t let them get you, kitten. Just stay close.”

He scooted Molly behind him, mutiny twisting in his gut. No one would stand in his way as he protected the girl from her dreaded fate. The troubled child deserved some peace and joy in her life.

“Leave this child alone.” He fixed an uncompromising glare on the leader—a woman of uncompromising valor—and ignored the half dozen or so others crowding closer.

The pale-eyed, persistent female held firm against him in their battle of wills. Apparently, this was no game to her, either.

Trey widened his stance and folded his arms across his chest, settling into the standoff as though he had all the time in the world. He wrestled against the knot of regret tangling inside his anger. At one time, he’d considered this woman beautiful, godly—even fair-minded.

He’d woefully miscalculated.

At least Molly had him on her side. A swift glimpse to his left revealed an opening in the hedge that ran along the perimeter of the yard. Mentally, he measured the dimensions and came up victorious. The hole was the perfect size for a forty-pound slip of a girl to glide through to freedom. He’d catch up with her before she made it halfway down Larimer Street and long before she hit the bedlam of horse-drawn taxis on Tabor Block in the business district.

Comfortable with his plan, Trey inched across the grass, tugging Molly along with him.

The boss matched him step for step.

Shooting the woman a warning glare, Trey then turned to Molly and cocked his head toward the thicket. “You know what to do,” he whispered.

Tears wiggled just below long, sooty lashes. “What if they catch me?”

He lowered his voice. “I’ll create a diversion.”

“What’s that?” Molly asked in a whisper loud enough to be heard two counties over.

“Never mind. When I say run, you run.”

But the leader—wrapped in that deceptively feminine package—pulled around to the left, effectively closing off the escape. “Don’t even think about it.”

At the end of his temper, Trey swallowed back a bitter retort.

As though hearing his unspoken words, inflexible blue eyes cut through the distance between them.

“The game is over…Marshal,” the woman said.

Although he had at least a hundred pounds on the stormy-eyed sprite, Trey had to stifle the shocking urge to withdraw. He’d stood up against cannons, gross injustice, crooked judges and vicious criminals, but nothing compared to the disapproval of Katherine Taylor—schoolmarm, official custodian of the Charity House trusts and Molly’s overprotective sister.

With that inflexible look on her face, Trey knew he could no longer count on the fact that Miss Taylor would set aside her volatile feelings for him and be reasonable, for Molly’s sake.

So be it.

He had to delay. Procrastinate. Postpone the inevitable.

But how?

The late afternoon heat pulled sweat onto his brow. He’d lost his hat long before the battle had begun. A light breeze lifted the hair off the back of his neck, the comforting sensation mocking his inability to think straight.

He circled his gaze around the perimeter of the yard, taking note of the snowcapped mountains in the distance. Too far away. Growing a little more apprehensive and a lot less confident, he focused on the brick, two-story mansions running shoulder to shoulder for several blocks off to his right. Too many questions. As a last resort, Trey shot a quick glance past the manicured lawn and blooming flowers to the large, fancy home behind him. Too risky.

His only hope was to take the woman by surprise.

As covertly as possible, he inched toward the hedge, but an irreverent growl wafted on a cloud of threat. A quick look to his right and Trey’s gaze connected with two more villains joining the foe’s ranks. Shifting to face these newest threats, he snarled at the man he’d once called friend and the woman who co-owned the Charity House orphanage with him. “Marc and Laney Dupree, this is not your fight.”

A grin slid between the two. “It is now,” Marc said for them both.

As one, they glanced to Katherine, then separated, covering the gaps she’d left when she’d moved in front of the hedge.

Blowing out a hiss, Trey lowered his head to Molly’s. “Don’t worry, kitten. I have everything under control.”

Various snorts and snickers cut through his words as more joined the enemy’s ranks. Katherine spoke for the group. “Just hand her over, and no one will get hurt.”

Wrapping all four feet of trembling little girl in his arms, Trey darted a quick glance to the house in front of him. “Not a chance.”

“This is ridiculous. Surrender the child, now.” Katherine spoke in a flat, no-nonsense tone that made him bristle.

Marc took two steps closer. “Enough, Trey. Hand her over.”

Trey eyed his friend turned traitor. Clean-shaven, dressed in a fancy vest and matching tie, Marc Dupree didn’t look much like the tough, hardened man Trey had once known, a man who had overcome poverty and…worse. In fact, with the sun winking off the dangling watch fob, Marc looked more like a dandy than a threatening opponent.

But Trey knew the man had hidden skills. Came from living with that wily, unpredictable wife of his, the same woman who was now conspiring openly with the enemy in this standoff.

“All right, Molly,” Trey whispered in her ear. “We’re going to make a run for it.”

Another low whimper slipped from her lips. “But, Mr. Trey, I’m not fast.”

He folded her deeper into his embrace. “Don’t worry. I’ll carry you.”

She wrapped her spider-thin arms around his neck, nodding her head against his chest.

Shifting her to a more comfortable position, he studied the biggest threat to the child. Her sister.

Just looking at the woman made his throat ache. Underneath all that prim schoolteacher starch, Katherine Taylor was a lovely, courageous bundle of feminine charm and beauty. Even amidst this contest of wills, Trey found a part of him admiring her moral fortitude and persistence. She’d triumphed over a scandalous childhood and the unspeakable violence committed against her. She was, quite frankly, a woman worthy of his respect.

Then again…

With the wind snapping tendrils of black hair free from that hideously confining hairstyle, she looked a lot like an avenging angel sent to demand his reckoning.

It was always like this between them—volatile, unpredictable, confusing—more so over the past few months.

Alarm spread through him, the physical reaction shocking him. The corresponding ache in his gut warned him that he’d made a mistake challenging Miss Taylor on this matter.

Seeking compassion, Trey pivoted to his right. But another glare of disapproval angled back at him. Carrying thirty or so extra pounds and a rounded belly, Laney O’Connor Dupree was just as relentless as Katherine.

“No way out yet, Molly. The flanks are too formidable for a quick escape.”

“Don’t let them get me,” Molly wailed.

“Don’t you worry. I’m a United States marshal. They wouldn’t dare take me on.”

The scoffing and giggles coming from the crowd behind Katherine didn’t seem to fill the little girl with confidence. “They don’t sound very worried.”

“They are. They just don’t know it yet.”

Balancing on the balls of his feet, Trey tucked Molly firmly in the crook of his arm. Leading with his shoulder, he charged through the front line. With the element of surprise on his side, he knocked his big, overdressed friend back a few yards.

Marc recovered quickly, and while Trey battled with his childhood friend, two pairs of persistent hands worked from behind to wrestle Molly free.

She kicked and squealed. “No, I don’t want to go!”

Trey ground his teeth together and dug his heels into the ground.

“Relent…Marshal,” said Katherine.

Trey pressed Molly tighter against his chest.

“You’ve taken this too far already,” Marc said.

Trey dodged a flying elbow. He spun to his right but slipped, dropping to his knees. Next thing he knew, Molly was wrested out of his grip, and he was lying flat on his back.

The impossible had happened. Trey Scott, defender of justice, protector of women and children, had just suffered defeat. At the hands of a schoolmarm, a dandy and a pregnant woman.

“Attack,” yelled the fancy man.

High-pitched squeals lifted into the air.

“And, this time, finish him off.”

In a blur, seven children jumped on him, fingers jabbing in his ribs and stomach. Trey clamped his teeth together. “I’m not ticklish.”

Undaunted, fourteen miniature hands worked quicker.

Trey finally let out a hoot of laughter. He rose to his knees, just in time to see Molly ushered up the back stairs, caught in the clutches of her relentless big sister. “Mr. Trey,” she yelled, “save me.”

She reached her thin arms out to him.

Trey hopped to his feet and then darted toward the back porch, but he was held back by the Charity House orphans. One by one, he peeled away hands and feet. A particularly persistent little boy rode on his leg, clutching with the grip of a full-grown man. It took considerable maneuvering to release the kid without hurting him. Trey could use such a man on his side. He nearly considered swearing the boy in as a deputy.

Too bad the brute was only eight years old.

“Mr. Tre-e-e-e-ey…”

Trey raced up the back stairs, then shot in front of the door, barring entrance with his hulking frame.

He looked from one woman to the other. “Laney Dupree and Katherine Taylor, I’ll not stand by and watch you degrade this child.”

Katherine narrowed her eyes, depositing every bit of the formidable schoolteacher in her expression. “A bath is not degrading.”

Trey dropped his gaze to Molly, and his gut twisted. She looked so sad and pitiful with her lower lip trembling. “It can’t wait until tomorrow?” he asked.

Katherine pulled her lips into a tight knot of disapproval.

Sensing a stalemate, he appealed to the wisdom of the group. “Laney, do something.”

Marc’s wife shook her finger at him as though he was the one who’d committed a terrible wrong. “I’m going to have to agree with Katherine. The child needs a bath.”

“No,” Molly cried. She twisted out of her sister’s grip, rushed to Trey and hooked her hand in his. “Mr. Trey says I don’t have to if I don’t wanna.”

Laney chuckled, instantly sobering when Katherine leveled a glare on her.

Sighing, Katherine spun back to look at Molly, the first signs of frustration flushing in her cheeks. With fists planted firmly on her hips, she said, “A bath is not going to kill you, young lady. Just look at you. Not a clean spot to be found.”

In a gesture identical to her sister’s, Molly jammed her balled fists on her hips. “We was playing marshals and bank robbers with the other Charity House kids.”

“And losing, from the sight of you,” declared Katherine.

Trey took exception.

“We were just letting them win.” He winked at the little girl. “Isn’t that right, Molly?”

She favored him with a big gap-toothed grin. “Right. We can’t never, not ever, let them stinkin’ outlaws get the best of us.”

Katherine gasped. “Did you teach her that?”

Trey had the presence of mind to cast his gaze to the sky before he responded. “Maybe.”

Marc joined them on the porch, turning into the voice of reason. “It’s over, Trey.”

Trey looked from Katherine to Marc to Laney, then back to Katherine again. Ignoring the satisfied expressions on the faces of the three other adults, he crouched down to the five-year-old little girl’s level. Plucking at one of Molly’s braids, he said, “Sorry, kitten. Looks like you’re taking that bath today.”

Her eyelashes fluttered, and one fat tear rolled down her cheek.

Before he gave in to the pleading look, Trey squeezed his eyes shut, rose and shifted out of the way. He opened his lids in time for Katherine to link her disapproving gaze with his. “Stick around…Marshal. I’m not through with you.”

With that, she spun around and marched inside the house, Molly in tow.

Laney poked him in the chest. “You just made a big mistake, my friend. Big mistake.”

## Chapter Two

With her resolve firmly in place, Katherine marched up the back stairs of the twenty-year-old mansion turned orphanage, tugging a reluctant little girl along with her. The moment her gaze landed on Molly’s tear-streaked face, Katherine’s determination turned into heart-wrenching guilt.

By engaging in that senseless battle with Marshal Scott, she’d hurt the very person she’d set out to protect.

What kind of big sister did that make her? Usually, she turned to God to help her with the overwhelming task of raising her newfound sister.

Today she’d allowed emotion to get the best of her.

Sighing, she caressed Molly’s hair and steered her into the recently refurbished bathroom, where Marc had installed multiple basins for the home’s many children to wash up for the evening. On the outside, Charity House looked identical to the rest of the fancy homes on Larimer Street. But inside, the mansion had been perfectly altered to house forty special children and the adults who cared for them.

“Come on, Moll.” Katherine clicked the door shut behind them. “Let’s get you out of those filthy clothes.”

Molly crossed her tiny arms over her chest. “I was having fun, Katherine.”

Inhaling a deep, calming breath, Katherine knelt on the floor and cupped the child’s cheek. “I know you were. And you can go back outside—”

Molly darted away from the claw-foot tub, but Katherine caught her by the sleeve. “After we get you cleaned up.”

“But Mr. Trey said playtime was more important than a bath.”

“I just bet he did.” Frustration speared Katherine’s previous remorse into something deeper, darker. Uglier…

Take captive every thought and make it obedient to Christ.

Katherine swallowed back her rising annoyance and forced her voice into an even tone. “Let’s leave Marshal Scott out of this for now.”

Molly scrunched her face into a frown, her expression reminiscent of one Katherine had seen in her own mirror often enough before she’d made peace with her past, the same one permanently stuck on their mother’s face every day before she’d finally succumbed to tuberculosis.

“Don’t you like Mr. Trey?” Molly asked.

Katherine’s throat tightened. Her feelings for the U.S. marshal could never be classified as something so benign as “like.” Explosive, precarious, frightening—those were far better descriptions for the disturbing emotions the man brought out in her.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Perhaps he’d had good intentions at first. But there was no question in her mind that Marshal Scott was a difficult man, with his own personal demons to battle. Katherine knew, to devastating ends, what such a man was capable of doing when a woman let down her guard. She absently touched the top button of her blouse, made sure it was fastened.

Truth be told, Trey Scott was too dangerous. Too bold. Too everything to trust. He simply had to go. Especially now that God had given Katherine the gift of finding the little sister she hadn’t known existed until six months ago.

Straightening her shoulders, Katherine turned her attention back to Molly. “Let’s get you into the tub, pumpkin.”

Molly arranged her face in an expression identical to the one Trey had leveled on her just moments ago on the back porch. “Don’t wanna.”

Katherine was long past being amused. “Well, sometimes we have to do things we don’t want.”

“That’s not fair to me.”

“Life’s not fair,” Katherine said, with a sigh.

A heart-wrenching sob flew out of Molly. “I wish you’d never come for me. I hate you.”

Holding back a sob of her own, Katherine prayed for the right words to ease Molly’s resentment. The set of the child’s jaw was so similar to the look on her face the day Katherine had found her in that bleak mining camp, with only a threadbare blanket on a dirt floor as her bed. The child had been so quiet, so…alone and scared, having been left to fend for herself after her father’s fatal accident in the mine.

Katherine pushed a lock of hair off her sister’s forehead, praying she could offer her sister a good life here at Charity House. “I know you think you hate me now, but I’ll always love you, Molly. You’re my sister.”

The five-year-old responded with a hiccuping sigh.

To keep from speaking out in anger, Katherine bit down on her lower lip. The realization that her sister blamed her for what had happened today wounded her far more than the child’s hurtful words. Before Trey Scott had entered their lives, Molly had never openly challenged her authority.

As though sensing her misery, Laney chose that moment to duck her head into the room. “Want me to take over?”

Katherine peered at her friend. The sympathy she saw staring back at her clogged the air in her throat, reminding her of the dark night when Laney had wrapped Katherine in her arms and held her until the tears had eventually stopped flowing.

Her friend had made things easier for Katherine then, and she wished she could give in to the offer of help now. “I have to do this myself.”

Angling her head to the side, Laney looked at Molly’s mutinous expression. “Are you sure?”

Katherine focused on her little sister. The childish rebellion brewing in her gaze warned Katherine the fight wasn’t over yet. Perhaps taking a moment to strengthen her resolve would do them both some good.

“Molly, I’m going to step in the hall with Laney for a few minutes. When I return, I want to see you completely undressed and sitting in that tub.”

The little girl opened her mouth to protest.

Katherine stopped her with a warning look.

The angry child paused, made a face and then stomped her foot. Hard.

“Molly. Grace. Taylor. That’s enough. Get undressed, now,” ordered Katherine.

Two scrawny shoulders hunched forward, and tears began pouring down the dirt-smudged cheeks. Sniffing loudly between sobs, Molly plopped onto the floor and started tugging off her shoes.

Katherine winced at the pitiful sight her sister made, but she wouldn’t give in to the tantrum. Molly needed to learn respect for the new life she had at Charity House. How could Katherine explain to the child just how blessed they were to be living at the orphanage, instead of above some filthy saloon? Or worse.

With unshed tears burning in her own eyes, Katherine motioned Laney into the long hallway that led to five bedrooms and a sitting chamber, then shut the door behind them.

As Katherine turned to look at her ally, her heart swelled with renewed gratitude for Laney’s kindness. The woman had virtually saved Katherine from the life that could have been her legacy as the daughter of the most notorious madam in town.

She opened her mouth to speak but Laney beat her to it. “That is one upset little girl in there. Are you sure you don’t want me to help you?”

Katherine shook her head. “Molly and I are still trying to get used to one another. I have to put an end to this blatant disobedience, before it goes any further.”

“I understand.” Laney headed toward the stairs, then stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “If you change your mind, I’ll be in the kitchen, helping Mrs. Smythe with supper.”

“Laney, wait.”

She pivoted around, her eyebrows lifting in inquiry. “Yes?”

While trying to gather her swirling thoughts, Katherine studied her friend. Even at eight months pregnant, her thick mahogany hair and creamy skin glowed with good health. Inside that beautiful exterior, Laney O’Connor Dupree carried a fiercely loyal heart. And Katherine never took that blessing for granted.

“Thanks for—” Katherine cocked her head toward the back of the house “—taking my side out there today.”

Laney’s amber eyes crinkled at the corners. “Think nothing of it. Trey may be Marc’s family, but in all the ways that count you’re mine.”

Katherine didn’t have the words to express her love for this woman, her sister in the faith. She had given Katherine far more than a home on that horrible night two years ago. Her friend had given her an opportunity to start over and had provided a place in the world where Katherine could exist without shame. “I…well, I just want to say thank you for supporting me.”

“Always.” Laney regarded her with a kind, patient look. “And we both know it goes both ways. I wouldn’t have Charity House if it weren’t for your help.”

Year-old memories pushed to the front of Katherine’s mind. Laney had nearly lost Charity House to a shady banker when he’d called in the loan six months earlier than the agreed-upon date.

Yet Katherine had never blamed her friend for her rash actions in trying to save their home. How could she? Laney had given her a safe haven when she’d been attacked by one of her mother’s former customers. Even when the townspeople had blamed her, rather than the man who had forced himself on her, Laney had taken Katherine in and had given her a job—one that had allowed her to give back to Charity House.

Katherine might be tainted forever, but God had blessed her. By being given Laney and the Charity House orphans, Katherine had learned she was not without worth. Thus, it was with a cheerful heart that she had helped her friend raise the money needed to save the orphanage. In the process, the other woman had found the love of her life in Marc, and because of his help, they all still had a home.

“Even if you had lost Charity House, I’d have never blamed you, Laney. You helped save my life, you—”

The sound of hiccuping sobs cut her off.

“This isn’t the time to look backward.” Her friend slid a glance toward the closed bathroom door. “Right now, you need to focus on your sister.”

“You’re absolutely correct.”

Laney squeezed her shoulder. “Hold firm, Katherine. Remember who’s in charge.”

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

Oh, heavenly Father, please give me the wisdom and strength to face this challenge. Make me a good sister to Molly.

With renewed strength, Katherine turned the doorknob. No matter what else happened today, big sister would prevail over little sister. And once she was finished with Molly, she’d turn her attention to a United States marshal who thought he could disrupt her orderly life by pitting one Taylor female against the other.

There was a lesson to be learned here today. And Trey Scott was going to learn it.


Still stinging from his unprecedented defeat, Trey stared out the window of Marc’s study, where he’d spent plenty of hours whenever his duties brought him to Denver. The former prairie town had grown since Trey first pinned on a badge, becoming a city that lured people with its promises of riches and opportunity. Unless, of course, the one seeking said opportunity was a five-year-old child with a rigid schoolmarm for a big sister.

Feeling his temper rising, Trey inhaled a slow breath and slid his glance along the rooftops peppering the nearby horizon. It struck him as somehow fitting and yet also ironic that a home for orphans sat in the middle of a neighborhood designed for the supremely wealthy. A few of the snobbier neighbors still filed complaints, always unfounded and always thrown out of court. In the end Charity House was here to stay.

Although Marc had always made him welcome here, Trey’s trips had gotten decidedly less restful since Katherine Taylor had taken on the role of zealous protector to her troubled little sister.

As he watched the Charity House orphans play a game of tag in the backyard, dark, angry thoughts formed into one bitter reality. He’d failed little Molly Taylor.

“You through brooding yet?”

Trey spun around and nailed Marc with a hard glare.

“Blast you, your wife and that woman she put in charge of the Charity House School.” He slashed his hand in the direction of the window, unwilling to dig deeper into the reasons for his dark mood. “After everything that child’s been through, she should be playing.”

Hitching a hip onto his oak desk, Marc considered Trey for a long moment. “Perhaps. But one bath does not make an unhappy child. I think she’ll survive the disappointment.”

Trey paced to the opposite end of the room. Leaning against the mantel, he dug his toe at the stones in the hearth. “What possessed that woman to turn a bath into grounds for war?”

Lifting an ironic eyebrow, Marc angled his head. “I think she had some help.”

“The poor girl just wanted to stay outside and play with the other children.”

“Katherine is pretty rigid about schedules.”

Trey made a face. “Boards are more pliant.”

Obviously finding some dark humor in the situation, Marc chuckled. “You realize, don’t you, that you’re in for it now? Katherine won’t let this one drop.”

Trey was well aware that the prissy schoolmarm was gunning for him. In the cold aftermath of their battle, he actually relished the ensuing confrontation. It was long past time he set the woman straight on a few things, like the value of putting the priorities of a five-year-old child ahead of an unreasonable schedule.

After striding back across the room, Trey sank into a dark blue wing chair opposite his friend. The smell of rich mahogany paneling did nothing to soothe his temper. A vision of Katherine Taylor in the role of avenging big sister scooted frustration deeper. For well over a year now, ever since Marc had married Laney, Trey had found himself on the opposing side of every argument with the schoolmarm. It had only gotten worse with Molly’s arrival.

Scrubbing a hand down his face, he said, “I don’t understand why that woman treats me like I’m evil incarnate.”

“I’d say you give her good reason.”

Trey opened his mouth to deny his friend’s accusation but shut it without speaking. Looking back, he realized that in his misguided attempt to defend the girl, Molly had ended up hurt.

Guilt gnawed at him, making him jerk out of his chair and start pacing again. Quite frankly, now that the emotion of the moment was gone, he was ashamed of how he’d behaved today.

“Why’d you take it so far, Trey?”

Ah, the real question at hand, and one he couldn’t fully explain. “Something about Molly gets to me. Has ever since her sister brought her to live at Charity House with all of you.”

“Granted, no child should have to lose both her mother and father at such a young age, or suffer the ridicule of her mother’s profession. But there are forty other…orphans in this home with similar stories. Why Molly?”

Trey stopped, turned and then dropped slowly into the chair he’d occupied earlier. “I can’t explain it.”

Marc kept his gaze focused and direct, looking at Trey with a quiet intensity that warned him he wouldn’t like what was coming next. “Why do I get the sense that your dedication to Molly has to do with your need to avenge the loss of your wife and child?”

Caught off guard by the unwanted reminder of his dead wife and the baby she’d carried, Trey clenched his fist. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I? Everything you do is about your quest for vengeance. Let’s see. How old would your child be now? About Molly’s age?”

Bitterness nearly choked him, the emotion so strong, Trey hadn’t realized how deep it ran until this moment. But now that the subject was broached, he couldn’t let it pass. “You know I can’t stand by passively and allow Ike Hayes to run free. His killing has to stop. No matter what it takes.”

Marc leaned forward, a perceptive look blazing in his eyes. “And because he murdered your wife and unborn child, you’re now the God-appointed agent for justice, is that it?”

Trey swallowed an angry retort. As far as he was concerned, God had nothing to do with his quest. “I will take Ike down.”

“It won’t bring Laurette or your baby back.”

Trey squeezed his eyes shut. “I know that.”

How many nights had he lain awake, alone? Always alone, always grieving. Only for a few brief moments, when he was championing little Molly Taylor, had he felt a little less empty. It wasn’t something he could put into words. It just…was.

As if his friend could read the direction of Trey’s thoughts, he said, “Well, singling out Molly won’t bring her parents back, either.”

Trey struggled to find his breath, his control. His reasoning. “I can’t explain how I know this, but Molly needs me more than the others do. And for the first time since I failed Laurette, the fact that another human being requires my protection doesn’t scare me half to death.”

Leaning back in his chair, his friend steepled his fingers under his chin. “Want to know what I think?”

“No.”

Marc continued as though Trey hadn’t spoken. “I think it’s time you moved past this poisonous need for vengeance. Start over. Begin a family of your own.”

Rebellion swept through him, and Trey had to swallow the fresh agony rising out of his grief. He couldn’t start over. Not yet. Not ever. The memory of his wife and unborn child deserved his total devotion, his complete concentration. And until Ike Hayes was made to pay for murdering Trey’s family, there could be no talk of starting over. “It’s too soon.”

“It’s been four years.”

Trey grimaced. Had it been that long since he’d held his wife in his arms, since he’d smelled the fresh scent of her hair? Four years since the soft lilt of her laughter filled his home? “I still miss her.”

“Me, too.” Marc’s face softened, and Trey knew his friend was remembering his sister, the one he’d entrusted to Trey’s care. The one Trey had failed.

“No one can replace Laurette,” Trey said, his voice thick with familiar emotion. “She was sweet, innocent, compassionate. Gentle, through and through.”

“Careful, Trey. Don’t rewrite history with the prejudice of your guilt. As her big brother, I agree that Laurette was special. But she was human, too, a woman with flaws.”

“I don’t remember any.”

“Maybe you should.”

Trey’s chest ached too much to respond. Even after four years, he couldn’t think of his wife without his mind filling with the image of the last time he’d held her in his arms, pregnant and dying from a bullet that should have found him.

At Laurette’s funeral, several members of his church had spoken of God’s will. They’d told him Laurette was in a better place, free from the pain and sorrow of this world.

Trey hadn’t believed their words for a minute. He would never accept that his wife’s senseless murder was part of some divine plan for his own life. And with every additional murder he had to investigate, the chasm between him and God widened.

Settling his head into the cushioned softness of the chair, he tried desperately to free his mind of the painful memories. But intense longing for what he could never have again tightened in his throat. The ugly role he’d played in Laurette’s death waged a battle inside him, choking the breath out of him. “If only I had been there to protect her and the baby she carried, maybe then—”

He broke off, unable to put into words the self-condemnation that haunted him still.

As though sensing his inability to continue, Marc changed the subject. “How long will you be in Denver this time?”

Thankful for the reprieve, Trey lifted his head and focused his thoughts on the present. “At least a month, maybe two. I don’t plan to leave until the trial is over.”

“You think you’ll get a conviction?”

Uncompromising resolve spread through him. A month ago, Trey had caught Ike’s younger brother, Drew, and had brought him in for trial. With one Hayes in custody, it was only a matter of time before Trey captured the other.

“I’ll get the conviction and I’ll find Ike,” he said. Laurette deserved nothing less from him. “They don’t call me ‘Beelzebub’s cousin’ for nothing.”

Marc’s lips twitched. “Oh, you’re dangerous—except when you’re up against a ferocious schoolteacher.”

“I can handle Molly’s big sister.”

“Like you did today?” Marc’s expression was too innocent, deceptively so.

Trey ground his teeth together and dug his heels into the rug. “Yeah, well, she got lucky.”

As if she’d planned her entrance for effect, the object of their discussion marched into the room, arms wrapped around her waist. Her glare pinned Trey in his chair.

Well, now. If that’s the way she wanted to play it. His earlier feelings of shame at sparring with this woman instantly disappeared. Perhaps it was time to put Miss Rigid-Rule-Setter on the defensive for a change.

With deliberate slowness, he took in her appearance, concentrating on the streaks of dirt on her cheek, the smudges on her once-crisp white blouse.

So Molly had fought to the end.

Good girl.

As he linked his gaze with Katherine’s again, he noted the sudden flicker of uncertainty flashing in her eyes before she covered it with her usual prissy determination.

Interesting.

She squared her shoulders. “I’d like that word with you, Marshal Scott. Now.”

Trey didn’t like her attitude, nor was he overly fond of the riot of emotion spinning in his gut. “I’m not in the mood for a discussion.”

“Perfect, because I plan to do all the talking.”

Marc rose and slapped Trey on the knee. “Go get her, Beelzebub’s cousin.”

## Chapter Three

By the time Marc left the study, Katherine’s frustration threatened to steal the remaining scraps of her composure. Trey Scott, with his challenging stare and unyielding presence, didn’t help matters. He looked too masculine, too intimidating for someone who had just championed a five-year-old over a bath.

With the arrogance only a lawman could pull off, he lifted a single eyebrow, relaxed back into his chair then propped a foot on his knee. “So talk.”

His attitude made Katherine forget all the reasons why this big, hard man alarmed her. “Marshal Scott, you are a disreputable, ill-mannered disturber of the peace.”

There. Very pleasant under the circumstances.

He returned his foot to the floor, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Don’t hold back, Miss Taylor. Tell me how you really feel.”

His gray eyes regarded her without a sliver of amusement, while the rich Southern drawl rumbled across her tight nerves.

“Oh, I’ve only just begun,” she said, allowing her growing resentment to take hold. She found it much easier to deal with the large, dangerous lawman when she thought of him as nothing more than a disruptive troublemaker.

Unraveling his hulking frame from the chair, he rose and began striding toward her. “By all means, go ahead and give it to me.”

Guard what has been entrusted to your care.…

The Scripture from 1 Timothy gave her the courage to hold her ground as he approached. For Molly’s sake, she had to stand firm. “Stay away from my sister.”

Thankfully, her words stopped his pursuit, and two matching black brows slammed together. “Why? What is it you have against me?”

Katherine ignored the twist of unease in her stomach and concentrated on an image of Molly’s tearstained cheeks. “Must you ask after your behavior this afternoon?”

“I didn’t work alone out there.” He pulled his lips into a sarcastic grin. “Or don’t you remember that part?”

Swamped with regret over her own role in Molly’s distress, Katherine slapped her hands onto her hips. “Molly has been through too much trauma already. When our mother became ill, instead of contacting me, she sent the poor child to live with her father in a remote mining camp. From all accounts, he did his best, but he still died in an accident, which left Molly all alone.”

A wave of regret pressed inside her chest. Katherine hadn’t even known of Molly’s existence until the letter from the mine’s foreman had arrived at Charity House. Why her mother hadn’t told her about her baby sister was a mystery that would never be solved. And by the time Katherine had rescued Molly from the mining camp, the little girl had been on her own for two weeks.

After all her losses, will the child ever believe I’m here to stay?

Katherine shoved the worry aside. If Marshal Scott kept undermining her efforts, it would only destroy the fragile bond she had with Molly. “I don’t want my sister hurt further.”

Genuine shock rippled across his features. “You think I’d intentionally harm that child?”

Surprised by his vehemence, Katherine shook her head. “Not intentionally, no. But singling her out from the rest of the children will only make her feel different from the group.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit overprotective?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Molly is too timid, too closed off from the others for a normal five-year-old. The child needs shaking up.”

Katherine didn’t like how he summed up her sister’s problem so accurately, nor did she trust the look of genuine distress she saw in his eyes. Finding common ground with this man, especially where her sister was concerned, brought matters to a dangerously personal level. And that simply would not do.

She had to remember he was her adversary. “And you’re the man to do the shaking up, is that it?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Why not me?”

Oh, she could give him several reasons, but she focused on the main one. “You treat her like a toy you can play with whenever the mood strikes, and then off you go, back to your…marshaling.”

“You mean off I go, pursuing men who kill innocent women and children.”

And therein lay the real issue between them. Trey Scott’s drive for vengeance was in direct conflict with Katherine’s need to forgive, even—no, especially—the unforgivable.

“Your actions send the wrong message,” she said. “They teach her that it’s acceptable to trust in her own power instead of relying on God’s.”

He gave her a mutinous expression. “Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad lesson.”

“I don’t want her to think revenge is the answer. Because of her circumstances, it would be too easy for her to hate. I want her to learn God’s healing power of forgiveness.” Katherine knew better than most just how hard that lesson was to learn, but she also knew the peace that came with offering absolution where it wasn’t deserved.

“There is no forgiveness for senseless murder and violence,” he said. His expression hardened as he spoke, but not before Katherine caught a glimpse of real pain just below the surface.

In that moment, she realized he would never understand her point, not with his own grief still so raw. Overwhelmed with emotion and consumed with compassion for his terrible loss, Katherine reached out and touched his arm. “What happened to your wife was horrendous. If only you could learn to let God—”

He jerked away from her and strode to the window. “This isn’t about me.”

“Yes, it is. At least, partly.”

He paced to the desk on the opposite end of the room but didn’t meet her gaze. “How do you figure that?”

“Ever since Marc married Laney, you’ve been coming around here a lot.” She lifted her chin at him. “Of course, you would. In fact, I think you should. You’re Marc’s brother-in-law. Nevertheless, I won’t stand by and watch you give my sister the wrong message every time you go after another outlaw for your own personal reasons.”

He clenched his hand into a fist. “You know nothing about what drives me.”

“Oh, but I do.”

He locked his gaze with hers and studied her with his hawklike eyes. The day-old growth of stubble on his jaw added a sinister look to his already hardened expression.

Katherine swallowed her own trepidation and dropped her gaze to the tin star pinned to his shirt. “Try to understand, I don’t want Molly to suffer another loss. Even if I were able to put aside the reasons why you hunt those criminals, one day you will leave and never come back. And the fonder she is of you, the more it will hurt.”

His eyes turned sad, haunted. “One day we all leave and never come back.”

She knew he was still thinking of his wife. “That’s not what I meant.”

His expression cleared into a blank, unreadable glare. “You certainly seem to know a lot about what you don’t mean.”

Struggling for control, Katherine whirled away. How could she explain the pain she had suffered as a child and subsequently as an adult without baring her soul? He wasn’t the only one who’d known suffering.

When she was Molly’s age, her own father had died a dedicated lawman, killed by an outlaw’s bullet. He’d left his family penniless, and as a result, Katherine’s mother had looked to a life of prostitution for her answers. Even after Sadie Taylor’s death, men still came looking for the infamous madam. Two years ago, one mean-spirited ranch hand had found Katherine instead.

In a rational moment, she knew linking her attack back to her father’s murder was defective thinking at best. However, she couldn’t deny that her father’s death had been the first in a long line of other tragedies in her life.

“Men who wear badges die. That is—” She broke off, swallowed. “Just stay away from Molly.”

He pushed away from the desk, his gaze dark and serious.

She fought the urge to turn tail and run. “I’m warning you…”

He halted several feet in front of her and waited for her to finish her threat.

As the silence grew heavy between them, Katherine’s heartbeat picked up speed, and she dropped her gaze to her toes. “Please, Marshal Scott, don’t champion my sister anymore.”

She hated the desperation in her voice. But now that she had Molly with her, all Katherine wanted for them both was a safe, orderly life that honored God.

Why was that so hard for him to understand?

He closed the distance between them until he was towering over her. “Look at me, Miss Taylor.”

Katherine jerked her gaze back to his. The sight of his inky-black hair, day-old growth of beard and fierce gray eyes sent a wave of fear through her.

“You’re standing too close,” she whispered.

“Is this really about Molly?” he asked as his hard, callused hand closed over hers.

His touch was surprisingly gentle. And…and…terrifying. She yanked her hand free, flinched two full steps back when he tried to touch her again.

“Of course it’s about Molly,” she said.

“You don’t think it’s about you? Me? Us?” He took a slow, careful step in her direction. “And the antagonism you have toward me?”

“Please.” A shudder shot through her. “D-d-don’t come any closer.” She had to squeeze her hands together to keep them from trembling.

He froze in midstep, dropped his gaze to her clasped fingers and then quickly moved away from her. “I’m sorry, Miss Taylor. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to frighten you. That was never my intention.”

Why was it always like this between them? Why couldn’t she simply talk to Marshal Scott like a reasonable, well-adjusted woman spoke with a friend? Why did she have to be such a coward around him?

Frustration at him, fury at her own fears, and disappointment at them both made her voice come out harsher than usual. “I…I know you didn’t mean any harm,” she said.

He pulled a deep, audible breath into his lungs. “Regardless, I only wanted to—”

“Mr. Trey, Mr. Trey, you gotta come see.” Molly chose that moment to skip into the room. “Laney’s talking bird said my name. Twice. He—”

As though sensing the tension in the room, she broke off and shifted her large, rounded gaze from Trey to Katherine and back to Trey again. “You wanna come see?”

Molly’s devoted expression reminded Katherine just why this man was so dangerous. He held too much power over them both. In a purely protective gesture, Katherine gently pulled her sister against her. “No, Moll, Marshal Scott was just leaving.”

“You are?” asked Molly.

As though the past five minutes had never happened, he slid Katherine a challenging look before smiling down at Molly. “Of course not, kitten. I wouldn’t disappoint my favorite five-year-old.”


Several hours after his confrontation with the prissy schoolmarm, Trey left the orphanage and headed back to his room at Miss Martha’s boardinghouse. Out of habit, he surveyed his surroundings, hunting for potential danger hidden in the shadows. All he found was a kaleidoscope of yellows and gold that spilled from the streetlamps and mansion windows into a patchwork of sporadic light along the lane.

Taking a deep breath of the crisp night air, he crammed his hat onto his head and increased his pace. Various wagon-wheel tracks pointed the way toward the center of town. After passing several mansions nearly identical to Charity House, Trey eventually turned onto Sixteenth Street. A few blocks later the two-story homes became three- and four-story businesses, and Trey found his mind returning to the events of the night.

He knew he shouldn’t have stayed at Charity House as long as he had, but Molly’s eager devotion had torn at his heart, making him set aside his own conflicting emotions concerning her sister. The child made him want to right the wrongs done to her.

He tried to tell himself his present restlessness was due to his concern for the kid, but Trey knew Molly wasn’t the real source of his agitation.

It was her sister.

He’d known there was going to be trouble the moment Miss Taylor had sauntered into Marc’s study, with her self-righteousness wrapped around her like a winter cloak. She’d spoken of forgiveness. Then flinched from his touch.

The woman had genuinely been afraid of him. The shock of it still sat heavy in his chest. Once he’d recognized her terror—terror of him—all he’d wanted to do was ease her worry.

Trey knew her past; Marc had told him what she’d endured. Hot anger rose inside him. Considering her terrible trauma, she had every right to be afraid of men.

Yet, beneath her fear, there was a real innocence about her. She truly believed there was healing after unspeakable pain and violence. With such a naive view of life, Miss Taylor could never understand what drove Trey.

How could she? In his experience, people who spoke of forgiveness had already done their forgiving. Well, he would never forgive Ike Hayes. He couldn’t allow Laurette’s killer off that easily.

Laurette.

At the thought of his wife a swift, unrelenting wave of guilt whipped through him. He’d nearly betrayed the memory of her tonight, all because he’d wanted to ease another woman’s fears.

Ripping off his hat, Trey slammed it against his thigh. He’d like to think he’d been drawn to Katherine tonight because he’d wanted to show her that all men weren’t like the one who had attacked her, but he knew better. Something about the woman dug past his well-built defenses and made him want to be a better man.

A man worthy of trust.

It must have been all that talk of “moving on” he’d had with Marc prior to their confrontation over Molly. He’d been missing Laurette so much, he’d ached inside.

Still shaken from the encounter, Trey desperately tried to call forth memories of the only woman he’d allowed in his heart since childhood. Instead, images of a beautiful, spitting-mad schoolteacher defeated his efforts.

Laurette’s memory deserved his total devotion. He had to get Katherine Taylor out of his head.

But how?

What he needed was a diversion, something that would put his mind back on important issues.

Like the whereabouts of Ike Hayes.

Changing course, he crossed over to Fifteenth Street and headed toward the jail where Ike’s brother, Drew, awaited trial. It was time to focus on serving justice the only way Trey knew how.

By his own hands.

## Chapter Four

Drew Hayes’s rotund body lay sprawled haphazardly across the lone bed in the back of the jail cell. With his jowls slack from sleep and his face full of belligerent beard, the outlaw looked like the animal Trey knew him to be.

A jolt of anger came fast and hard, filling Trey with such hatred, his throat burned from it. This man, this outlaw, had played a leading role in the murder of Trey’s wife and child. The reminder brought a driving need to lash out, to end the life of the man who had stolen what was so precious to Trey. He had to brace himself against a nearby wall to keep from taking action.

Breathing hard and trying urgently to gain control over his turbulent emotions, Trey forced his attention to the window above Drew’s bed. The rising moon glittered through the rusty metal bars, casting a thin ray of light that led from the cell door to the foot of Drew’s bed.

Trey wanted to follow that path, and end the battle with a single bullet. But as he struggled inside the blinding haze of his hate, he knew he wouldn’t do it. Drew Hayes didn’t deserve such an easy out.

Motioning to the deputy on duty to join him, Trey lifted the keys off the hook and then turned to enter Hayes’s cell. Once inside, he tossed the keys and a warning look at the other lawman.

“Stay close,” he said. “And keep your ears open. I may need your testimony, if he talks.”

The deputy nodded.

Forcing aside all emotion except uncompromising resolve, Trey moved deeper into the cell, kicked the leg of the bed. “Wake up.”

The body stirred under the blanket.

Trey waited, watched, gauged.

Although the man had fifty pounds on him, without his brother, Ike, by his side, Drew Hayes was a coward. He’d proven that well enough when Trey had found him in Mattie Silks’s brothel on Market Street. A few threats and a cocked pistol were all it had taken to bring the man into custody without a fight.

The easy arrest hadn’t been the only surprise. Trey had expected a simple admission of guilt and a full disclosure of his brother’s whereabouts. Drew hadn’t talked.

“I want a word with you.” Trey yanked the blanket to the ground. “Now.”

The outlaw lifted his head. “I ain’t talkin’ to no law dog.”

Leaning against the wall, Trey folded his arms across his chest and clung to the last scraps of his humanity. He forced all thought of Laurette out of his mind and focused only on the most recent murders, the ones he could pin on Drew with or without an admission. “About the night of the twenty-third, on the McCaulley ranch…”

“I ain’t answering none of your questions,” Drew snarled, then launched into a string of obscenities.

Trey ignored the foul language and continued. “Was it only you and your brother that day?”

Snorting, Drew sat up, swung his beefy feet to the ground. “What do you care? It was just a woman and some snot-nosed kids.”

A dark rage swept over Trey, one he hadn’t felt since that night in Colorado Springs when he’d found the twisted bodies of Mrs. McCaulley and her boys. The unforgettable images of blood and brutal death were still clean and sharp in his mind. The fact that the Hayes brothers had done the same thing to Trey’s wife and child added fuel to his fury.

In that moment, Trey knew that Marc was dead wrong. Trey didn’t seek vengeance only for his own behalf. He sought justice for all the innocent victims murdered by the Hayes brothers.

“I’m gonna see you hang for what you’ve done,” Trey said.

“I ain’t afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

Drew vaulted off the bed.

In a heartbeat, Trey drew his gun and pressed it against the man’s temple. Death was gunning for Drew Hayes. And in that moment it didn’t matter to Trey how it came about, just that it came swiftly.

“All I need is a reason.” His finger itched to pull the trigger. “Just one.”

Palms facing forward, Drew inched two paces back toward the bed. “I don’t want no trouble.”

“Then start talking.”

The outlaw’s small, deep-set eyes narrowed into calculating slits. “I know your kind, Marshal. You ain’t no better than me.”

“We’re nothing alike,” Trey said, holstering his gun to punctuate his point.

“You enjoy killing, Marshal.” Drew dropped to the bed, and a sinister grin glinted behind the dirty beard. “Same as me.”

Black crept across his vision as Trey yanked Drew off the bed and wrapped his fingers around the outlaw’s throat. “You and I aren’t anything alike.”

“Turn him loose, Marshal. You…”

Trey couldn’t hear the rest of the deputy’s plea over the sound of his own pulse drumming loudly in his ears. Nor did he pay much attention to the metal click of a key turning in the lock.

“Marshal Scott.”

Trey squeezed tighter, and Drew’s eyes began to bulge.

“Marshal. Stop.”

The urgent yank on his arm finally got through to Trey. Slowly, deliberately, he loosened his grip from around Drew’s neck, then launched the outlaw to the floor.

Drew flopped around like a dying fish, clutching his throat and wheezing in between coughs.

“Don’t you ever compare yourself to me again.” Trey turned his attention to the deputy. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Make sure he’s in a more talkative mood by then.”

The deputy flattened his lips into a grim line. “You can count on it, Marshal.”

Without looking back, Trey walked out of the jail. Once he was on the street, a burst of cold mountain air punched through his black mood.

He felt dirty. Contemptible.

Vile.

Was Drew Hayes right? Was Trey more like the outlaw than he wanted to admit?

No. The need to protect, especially women and children, was deeply ingrained in him—as much a part of the reason why he’d accepted President Grant’s appointment to the U.S. marshal post as to avenge Laurette’s death.

All Trey had to do was think back over the events earlier in the day with five-year-old Molly Taylor. No matter how silly and foolish, he’d set out to defend a little girl who’d simply wanted a few more hours of play.

Didn’t that make him better than the Hayes brothers?

Perhaps. But now, with the distance of time, Trey’s reasoning told him that he’d chosen the wrong path to demonstrate his loyalty to the child.

Marc’s accusations suddenly shot through his mind. Had Trey silently made a promise to champion Molly Taylor for his own purposes, even knowing he couldn’t give false guarantees where the future was concerned?

At least he could right that particular wrong. First thing in the morning, he would set matters straight with Molly and Miss Taylor. Perhaps with the schoolmarm’s forgiveness, Trey could erase some of the ugliness from his recent encounter with Drew Hayes.


Once she’d helped settle the other children and said all their evening prayers, Katherine returned to her sister’s bed for a final good-night kiss. Pulling the blanket up to the child’s chin, she tucked the corners underneath her tiny shoulders. “Pleasant dreams, sweetheart.”

Big round eyes filled with childlike worry looked up at her. “You still angry at me, Katherine?”

Katherine dragged her sister into a fierce hug. “I was never angry at you, Molly. I was only upset with your behavior. I didn’t set out to ruin your fun, but rules are rules.”

The little girl rubbed a wet cheek into her shoulder. “I don’t really hate you, you know.”

Tightening her hold, Katherine dropped a kiss onto her sister’s forehead. “I know.”

Oh, Lord, make me worthy of raising this child. Help me to show her Your unconditional love so she’ll turn to You when times get tough, or when I fail her.

With gentle movements, Katherine lowered Molly back to the bed. “No more worries, pumpkin. All’s forgotten.”

Molly swiped the back of her hand across her cheek. “Really?”

“Really. We’re family. And now that God has brought us together, I won’t ever leave you or let you go.”

As Molly grinned through her tears, devotion brimmed in her eyes. “You’re the best sister ever.”

Katherine reached out and tweaked the upturned nose. “So are you, Molly.”

“Night, Katherine.”

Smiling, she leaned over and blew out the bedside lantern. “Night, Molly. I love you.”

“Me, too.”

Katherine quietly edged out of the room, then shut the door behind her. Tiptoeing toward the back staircase that led to the kitchen below, she offered up a silent prayer of gratitude to God. She and Molly had stumbled today, but they’d avoided any permanent rift.

No thanks to Trey Scott.

The U.S. marshal had gotten in the middle of a situation where he quite simply hadn’t belonged. Perhaps his intentions had been honorable, but in the end he’d caused far more harm than good.

And not just in Molly’s case.

Katherine stifled a shudder as unwanted memories of their latest encounter crept into her thoughts. If only he’d agreed to leave her sister alone, Katherine might have been able to keep her precarious emotions under control during their argument.

But he’d pushed and demanded explanations that weren’t easily voiced. Then he’d stood too close. And she’d become unreasonably terrified.

During a moment of clarity, Katherine knew the man would never hurt her. Not in the way her attacker had. Then why was she so afraid of him? Why did she always feel the need to run whenever Marshal Scott got too close?

Even now, hours later, the humiliation of her panicky reaction dug deep.

Collapsing against the wall, Katherine shut her eyes against the shame that still burned in her. No. She wouldn’t take the blame this time. Her uncomfortable reaction to Trey’s nearness wasn’t her fault. It was the legacy of her past. Nothing more.

In fact, her fear of Marc’s friend was a small annoyance compared to the importance of maintaining stability in her life. Especially now that she had Molly’s welfare to consider.

With renewed determination, Katherine marched down the stairs, then pushed through the door leading into the kitchen.

The sight of Mrs. Smythe washing dishes at the sink improved Katherine’s mood considerably. Tall, broad-shouldered and gray-haired, Mrs. Smythe was the perfect adopted grandmother for forty orphans—and one grown woman in need of a friendly face. Arranging a smile on her lips, Katherine greeted the other woman. “Good evening, Mrs. Smythe.”

The older woman turned, her smoke-gray eyes sparkling with pleasure. “Hello, dear.”

The housekeeper’s affectionate reception warmed Katherine’s heart, but after the events of the day, she found she wasn’t in the mood for company, after all. “Why don’t you go on home? I can finish the washing.”

Mrs. Smythe’s face cracked into a wide smile. “Are you sure? I certainly don’t mind staying until I’m through.”

Katherine nodded. “I feel like cleaning tonight.”

Wiping her hands on the front of her skirt, the older woman let out a hearty chuckle. “Well, then, I won’t ask again.”

Mrs. Smythe hurried around the chopping block in the center of the kitchen, then gathered her belongings out of the supply closet. “I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

“Night,” Katherine said.

Just as the door shut with a bang, Laney waddled into the kitchen, carrying an armload of dishes. Avoiding her friend’s eyes, Katherine took the stack of plates and set them in the soapy water. “I sent Mrs. Smythe home.”

“I see that.”

“Why don’t you go rest, enjoy some time alone with Marc?”

Laney blew out a sigh of gratitude. “My feet are hurting, and I certainly won’t turn down a quiet moment with my husband. I’ll just bring in the rest of the dishes before I head upstairs.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

All argued out, Katherine relented. “That would be a great help, thank you.”

As Laney trudged back to the dining room, Katherine picked up a plate from the soapy water, grabbed a rag and began scrubbing. She tried to empty her mind of all thought, but images of Trey’s stricken expression when he’d realized how frightened she was of him kept flashing through her mind.

Just thinking of the genuine remorse flickering in his eyes made her feel so…so…guilty.

Why did she feel as though she’d hurt him when she’d flinched from his touch?

“You’re going to wipe the pattern right off that china.”

Katherine jerked at the sound of Laney’s voice. Looking over her shoulder, she let her gaze unite with her friend’s worried expression.

“Are you all right?” Laney asked.

Sniffing, Katherine flicked the water off her fingers. “Perfect.”

“You don’t look perfect,” Laney said, her gaze sharp and assessing.

Katherine took the stack of dirty dishes, then set them on the counter next to the sink, with a thud. “I’ve never been better.”

Returning to work, she yanked another dish out of the water, spraying soapsuds into the air.

Laney wiped a bubble off Katherine’s cheek, then laid a hand on her arm. “Did you argue with Trey again?”

Katherine increased the vigor of her scrubbing, her erratic movements sloshing water and bubbles onto the floor. “Trey and I always argue.”

“Over Molly?”

“I told him to stay away from her.”

Sliding a look from beneath her lashes, Laney fiddled with the dishes, stacking them largest to smallest. “He’s good with her, you know. And with the rest of the children, for that matter.”

Perhaps. Maybe. Okay, yes, he was good with the orphans.

It changed nothing. “Ever since he started hanging around here, he’s disrupted my, I mean, our lives. Molly never defied me before today.”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later. She’s a child, after all.”

Katherine knew Laney was right—to a point—but she also knew that her concerns over Trey’s impact on her sister’s well-being were valid as well. “He’s too bitter. And his anger at God is tangible. I don’t want the man’s influence to result in Molly’s unbelief.”

Laney abandoned all pretense of helping and turned her full attention to Katherine. “I’ll admit Trey can seem hard on the surface, but deep down he’s a good man. And none of his anger shows when he’s with the children.”

Katherine swung around to glare at her friend. “Are you defending him?”

Throwing a palm in the air between them, Laney shook her head. “No. No. It’s just that he’s—”

“A U.S. marshal.”

“Yes, that’s right. And although he’s not exactly godly, he is a man of high morals, sworn to protect the citizens of this country. All things considered, he’s an acceptable example for the children, including Molly.”

Katherine dismissed the notion with a flick of her wrist. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I’m afraid I do.” Laney lowered her hand, sighed. “It’s his job to hunt down criminals, Katherine, including the men who murdered his wife and child. Maybe instead of condemning him, you could try understanding him better.”

Clenching tense fingers around a plate, Katherine set her jaw. “Let’s say I do find compassion for his lethal quest. What if he’s killed in the process?”

“Oh, honey.” Laney’s eyes softened. “Not every lawman dies.”

Katherine shook her head, refusing to let her mind go in that direction. “Trey Scott is the embodiment of instability. I don’t want Molly getting attached to him.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, she already is.”

Katherine cringed over the statement, seriously concerned Molly wasn’t the only one growing attached to the man. “Well, it’s not too late to prevent any further harm. As long as he stays away from her, everything will be fine.”

“Aren’t you being a bit overprotective?”

Trey had used similar words against her. The accusation hadn’t sat well with Katherine then, and it didn’t sit well with her now. “Isn’t that the role of a big sister?”

Laney gently pried the plate out of Katherine’s grip. Steering her to a stool, she forced her to sit. “I’m worried about you. You’ve been on edge a lot lately, and I think it has more to do with a certain U.S. marshal than your struggle to find your way as Molly’s guardian.”

Katherine tried to rise, but Laney placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. “It’s time we talked about what’s really bothering you.”

“Nothing’s bothering me except my concern over Marshal Scott’s damaging influence over Molly’s life.”

Laney pressed her nose inches from Katherine’s. “Why don’t we get to the real problem? Shall we?”

“And here I thought we had.”

A shrewd look filled Laney’s gaze. “I think you should admit you have strong feelings for Trey Scott, ones that have nothing to do with your little sister.”

Katherine shot off the stool. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Correction.” Laney pointed a finger at her. “Very strong feelings.”

## Chapter Five

The next morning, Katherine exited Charity House with the notion of using work to alleviate her restlessness from the night before. Unfortunately, the crisp mountain air did nothing to shake her melancholy. Perched on the top step of the wraparound porch, she looked to the heavens and sighed. Large puffs of cottony white clouds drifted aimlessly against the deep blue sky.

If only she could be that carefree. But Laney’s accusation about her feelings toward Marshal Scott had put dangerous thoughts into Katherine’s head, making her want to cast off the chains of her past. To start a new life free of fear.

If only I deserved a second chance.

More agitated than before, Katherine trudged down the steps and started along the sidewalk that led from the orphanage to the Charity House School two doors away. The faint whinny of a horse in the distance had her looking up.

Realizing she wasn’t alone on the path, Katherine immediately stopped in her tracks. Two ladies slowly approached from the opposite direction. They were dressed in beautiful tight-waisted dresses in identical shades of pink satin. With each graceful step, their skirts billowed over their dainty feet. They shimmered in the morning light, looking like purity personified.

In spite of her best efforts to remain calm, instant trepidation sprang to life. Katherine knew these women. She had seen the two sitting together with their families in church. They were either sisters or very good friends, but Katherine had failed to find out which because no matter how often she smiled at them, they never acknowledged her in return.

The reflex to rush back into Charity House came fast, nearly too powerful to resist. But Katherine was no coward. Thus, she held her ground and took courage in the last line from Psalm 31. Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.

As the two drew nearer, Katherine lifted her chin a little higher. They studied her from under the brim of their feathered hats. Their gazes were unreadable but not overly antagonistic. Pleased the women hadn’t snubbed her right away, Katherine smiled.

“Good morning,” she said.

The taller woman grabbed the elbow of the smaller and pulled her closer, as though she were saving her from stepping in a cow pie. A snarled lip confirmed her disgust.

Katherine swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. A shiver slithered up her spine, and her hands started to shake.

Oh, please, Lord, not again.

Her prayer went unanswered. As one, the ladies lifted their regal noses in the air, snorted—they actually snorted!—and all but scrambled across the street in their haste to get to the other side.

Stunned, Katherine’s eyes began to sting, and she had to fight a wave of hysteria as their pointed whispers lifted in the air.

“Tramp,” one said to the other, menace dripping in her voice. “She’s just like her mother.”

“I heard she led that man on,” came the harsh reply.

At that comment the women turned back and stared at Katherine from over their shoulders. From the measuring glint in their eyes, it was obvious they thought very little of her.

Katherine had experienced this sort of shunning often enough before, but the pain and humiliation were still sharp, like burning shards stabbing into her heart. For several heartbeats, Katherine stood with her head high and her breath stuck in her throat.

On her left, the Charity House School stood like a sentinel, offering sanctuary. Giving in to her humiliation, Katherine rushed up the steps and quickly fit the key into the lock.

Once inside the safety of the building, she leaned back against the shut door and gulped for air. Blinking away the tears in her eyes, she swallowed hard, again and again and again, until she had her emotions under control. Katherine would not allow those cruel women’s barbs to hit their mark. Not today. Not ever.

At last her breathing evened out, and she wandered aimlessly through the rooms of the school. Unfortunately, and against her best efforts, Katherine’s thoughts kept circling back to what the women had said on the street.

She’d led that man on.…

No. It wasn’t true. Katherine hadn’t asked to be forced like that. All her life she’d kept her distance from men. They’d always scared her, a legacy from the ugly side of their nature, which she’d witnessed often enough in her mother’s brothel.

And no matter what people claimed about her, Katherine would never have relations with a man, not willingly. Which made Laney’s accusations about her feelings for Trey Scott all the more absurd. The man was too intense, too dangerous, and…and…Katherine had worked too hard to achieve normalcy in her life to give any man—especially a lawman with a death wish—the power to hurt her again.

With her head thick and heavy from her troubling thoughts, Katherine prayed for focus. O Lord, be not silent. Do not be far from me.

She looked around her and studied the safe world she’d created out of an incomplete education and necessity.

No man could hurt her here.

This was her territory. Her home. The one place where she had complete control. Each desk, book and writing tablet had been chosen with care. She and Laney had turned the two-story brick building into a reputable school for the children banished from all the others in town.

She and the orphans might be outcasts in the community, but they had a place of belonging here.

Katherine crossed to her desk and straightened a stack of papers that didn’t need straightening. The fresh smell of soap and furniture polish told her Mrs. Smythe had indulged in some deep cleaning earlier this morning.

Strolling through her domain, Katherine released a sigh. Every detail reflected her taste for precision and order.

Admit you have strong feelings for Trey Scott…

Laney’s words from the night before echoed through Katherine’s thoughts. Taunting her. Mocking her. Far worse than any whispered attempts at hurting her with untrue accusations.

Frantic for some relief, she wove her way between the desks and trekked toward the supply closet in the back of the building. After lighting a lantern, she carried it with her into the dark, tiny room.

Katherine’s trademark military-style order was reflected here as well. Inkwells, writing tablets and fresh sticks of chalk marched in straight rows along the lower two shelves on her left. More writing tablets were stacked on the upper shelves, along with rulers and other miscellaneous supplies.

Katherine set down the lantern and breathed in the comforting scent of books and paper. She ran her fingertip across the cold inkwells, and then along the smooth book spines. But even here, in her favorite refuge, thoughts of Trey Scott threatened her peace of mind.

What if she hadn’t flinched from his touch? Would such a man ever be able to give her the genuine caring and devotion she secretly craved, in spite of what others thought of her?

She was only kidding herself with dreams of the impossible. No man would give her the love and respect that another, untainted woman deserved. Her attacker, and the subsequent response from the townspeople, had shown Katherine exactly what her value was in this world.

Anyone who trusts God will never be put to shame.

The verse from Romans swept through her mind, giving her the reassurance she sought. Ever since that dark night, Katherine had turned to God as her salvation. And she’d always found peace in His shelter.

His opinion was all that mattered. Today would be no exception. Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she would take a quick inventory of her supplies.

She focused her attention of the rows of Michel’s Geography and The Pilgrim’s Progress on her right. Looking forward to the mind-numbing task, she dropped to the floor and began counting the books on the bottom shelves first. She had to bend all the way over in order to reach the books nudged in the farthest back corner.

“Ten, eleven, twelve.” She jabbed at the last one. “That makes thirteen. I’ll definitely have to order more this week.”

“Well, now.” The familiar drawl dropped through the stuffy air and skidded down the back of Katherine’s neck. “This is by far the most interesting sight I’ve seen all morning.”

Katherine jerked upward and promptly thumped her head against the shelf above her. “Don’t you know how to knock?”

A masculine chuckle was Trey’s only response.

She tried twisting around but only managed to bang her head on the shelf again.

“Careful now.”

She quickly flipped over, sat up and hugged her knees against her chest. Huddled in a tight ball, she had to look up—and up farther still—in order to bestow her indignation upon the man.

“Ma’am.” He whipped off his hat and bowed. “Always a pleasure.”

From her vantage point, the brute appeared more mountain than man. “Isn’t there a rule or code or something against sneaking up on unsuspecting women?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Probably. But I think I skipped that day at lawman’s school.”

“You are a mule-headed—”

“Stubborn pig.” A touch of mischief danced in his eyes. “Or so I’ve been told a time or two.”

In this lighthearted mood, with his face clean-shaven and his hair damp on the ends, Trey Scott was far more dangerous than he had been the day before.

This time, however, she would not give in to her fear of him. She would not. The neighbor ladies had caught her at a weak moment this morning. Trey Scott would not be given the same chance. “You’ve only heard that once or twice?”

He laughed, the gesture swiping ten years off his features. She didn’t like the way her stomach twisted in response. But from dread, or something else entirely? Disturbed by the direction of her thoughts, she dropped her gaze and instantly noticed he hadn’t worn his guns.

Come to think of it, he never wore the six-shooters when he came around the children. The consideration for their safety made him infinitely more likable.

The big, heartless brute.

It was so much easier to control her emotions around him when he acted like the mule-headed, stubborn pig he claimed to be. But Trey Scott had hidden depths that Katherine was only beginning to notice after their yearlong, precarious acquaintance.

Oh, Lord, what now?

“Are you going to sit down there all day?” he asked.

“Are you going to prove yourself a gentleman and help me up?”

The aggravating grin on his face widened as he flipped his hat onto one of the desks behind him. “Ask nicely.”

What gave Trey Scott the right to look so vital and handsome, like he was a hero out of a ridiculous dime novel? “Would you stop staring at me like…like…that?”

He rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Are you taking a tone with me, Miss Taylor?”

His outrageous remark pushed her to stand on her own, but her foot tangled in her skirts, and she fell back down. “Oh, now look at what you’ve done.”

He angled his head at her. “For a good Christian woman, you have a pretty mean temper.”

“How absurd. Christian women get angry, too.”

“Obviously.”

She didn’t like this teasing side of him. What had happened to the Trey Scott who couldn’t go three sentences without arguing with her? That man she could handle.

“You can save the snide remarks, Marshal. And. Help. Me. Up.”

The light from the lantern flickered off the watch fob dangling from one of his vest buttons, blinding her for a moment.

“I wish you’d turn around again.” He drew out a long, dramatic sigh. “The other end didn’t bite.”

A seed of rebellion took hold of her. “Don’t forget, a bee keeps her stinger in her behind.”

His lips twitched. “Miss Taylor, I’m shocked!”

Panicked he might start laughing, and then get her started as well, she gave him her let’s-get-down-to-business look. “Marshal Scott—”

“Right, right. Help you up.”

Pushing from the wall, he reached out to her. Palm met palm, and…nothing. No fear. No terror. Just a pleasant warmth.

Then, when he shifted his hold slightly, all she felt in response was…

Contentment?

At that odd thought, a riot of confusion shot through her already addled brain, and she pulled on her hand. “Either help me up or let go.”

“Right.” With a flick of his wrist, he yanked her to her feet.

Quickly dropping her hand to her side, she took a careful step back and then straightened to her full height. Feeling remarkably out of her depth, she resorted to the one tactic that kept her on an even footing with the man. Antagonism.

“I don’t know why you’re here, but I refuse to continue trading insults with you today,” she said.

He had the nerve to look shocked by her words. “Is that what we’re doing? I thought we were getting on rather well. For us.”

She took a deep breath. “Step back please. So I can pass.”

His expression turned serious, concerned even, and he quickly did as she asked. “Of course.”

Right. Now he had to be heroic and honor her fears, like he had the day before in Marc’s study. Did he know that when he acted like this, with such careful consideration of her feelings, his closeness didn’t frighten her so much?

But, if that were truly the case, why were her hands shaking?

In an effort to hide her trembling fingers, she busied herself with brushing off her skirt.

“I’d be happy to assist.” He peered around the side of her. “Unless, of course, you brought your stinger with you.”

“You, sir, are outrageous.” And the more he talked with that smooth Southern drawl, the more her uncertainty increased. “Maybe you should be on your way now.”

“Don’t you want to know why I searched you out?”

“Not particularly.” But curiosity poked through her wish to be rid of him. “How did you know I was here?”

“I stopped at Charity House first. Laney told me where to find you.”

She couldn’t stop a small jolt of surprise from spreading into something more tangible, more pleasant. But reality set in just as quickly. Had the two ladies from her earlier encounter seen Trey enter the building? Would they think Katherine had set up a secret rendezvous?

No, she was being oversensitive because of their rudeness. Surely they’d been long gone by the time Trey had arrived. “You came looking for me?” she asked at last, suspicion digging deep. “Why?”

“I want to talk to you about Molly.” As he spoke, everything about him turned serious—his expression, his body language, even his tone.

Surprised by the change in him, and her intrigued reaction in response, she focused on ending their discussion as quickly as possible. “There’s nothing more to discuss. In fact, it’s all very simple—”

“Is it? I was under the impression it was—” he blew out a slow breath “—complicated.”

She started to push around him, but he evened out his weight, barring the exit. He seemed to fill every available space.

He looked too big, too casual, and for a brief moment, she feared he would attack. But instead of making her shake, or even tremble, the notion made her temper flare.

Finally, an emotion she understood. “Get out of my way.”

A troubled look pooled in his gaze, and he scrubbed a hand through his hair. He shifted to one side, leaving a small opening for her, but he didn’t move completely away. “Not until I’ve said my piece.”

After his earlier consideration of her fears, she knew she owed him that much. “Go ahead then. Say what you came to say.”

He nodded. “I was wrong to get between you and your sister yesterday.”

“You admit it?” Katherine could hardly believe her ears.

“Yes.”

Blinking at this newest change in him, she didn’t know what to think. Trey Scott had just given her what she wanted.

So why didn’t she feel any satisfaction?

“It’s not personal, you know,” she said, the truth finally hitting her. “It’s simply that you can’t offer Molly the stability she needs, especially now.”

“You’re correct. I can’t make promises.”

She suddenly wished he would. Because she sensed, all the way down to the last hair on her head, that if Trey Scott made a promise, he would keep it.

“I won’t come around the orphanage anymore,” he said.

Her stomach bounced to her toes. Now that he’d given her exactly what she wanted, she realized she wasn’t sure she wanted it anymore.

In truth, she couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him again. “What about Marc?”

“I can visit with him during school hours.”

He looked so sad, troubled, and she found herself no longer concerned about her own fears.

She reached to him and touched his sleeve.

It was his turn to shrug her off.

“Molly’s your sister. Your word stands. I won’t interfere anymore. However—” he commanded her gaze with a hard, unrelenting look “—you should know that I will not stop hunting Ike Hayes until I find him and bring him to justice.”

Katherine sighed, realizing he’d missed the crucial point in all her arguments. Didn’t he understand that it wasn’t the hunt she feared, but rather Trey’s motivation? “Seeking vengeance won’t—”

“That is not up for discussion.” His closed-off expression couldn’t hide his pain.

Katherine shook her head, feeling as though she’d failed him and unsure why that thought hurt so much.

She didn’t want him to walk away. Not like this. With nothing really settled between them.

But before she could plead with him to hear her out, he said, “You were right all along.”

“I…I was?”

His eyes clouded over. “Men with badges die.”

## Chapter Six

Unable to sort through his chaotic thoughts, Trey shoved his own turmoil aside and studied the myriad of emotions that swept across Katherine’s face at his declaration. Dread. Pain. Sorrow.

He wanted to offer her words of reassurance, to promise her they’d figure everything out for Molly’s sake, as well their own.

But he couldn’t lie to her now that they were starting to have an honest conversation.

“That’s all I had to say.” He reached for his hat.

“Stay.” She gripped his arm. “Please. This isn’t right. Can’t we find another way?”

He shook his head at her. “You want me to forgive murderers, while I never can.”

“Maybe not on your own.” She dropped her hand and sighed. “But with God’s help…”

“Don’t you understand, Katherine? I don’t believe in turning the other cheek. I’m Old Testament. An eye for an eye.”

“Seeking revenge only hurts you, Trey, not—”

“Tell that to my wife, and all the others Ike Hayes has killed. Good, decent people.”

Katherine lowered her gaze to her toes. “I’m…sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of your loss.”

“I know.”

Now was the time he should walk away, but the unmistakable sadness in Katherine’s eyes—sadness for him—touched the part of his soul he’d thought he’d buried with Laurette. Vengeance still burned in his gut, probably always would until he captured Ike, yet Trey didn’t want to walk away without attempting to assure Katherine his anger wasn’t directed at her.

With unsteady fingers, he touched her cheek, dropped his hand at her flinch. Why couldn’t she trust him, even a little? “I know I argued the point yesterday, but like you, I don’t want to put Molly through another loss.”

She blinked at him but didn’t respond.

He took a step closer, determined to set aside his own bitterness for a moment so he could help her understand. Katherine was courageous and good. She deserved a future free of the fear that still gripped her, the same fear that still held her captive after two years of living in the safety of Charity House.

With slow, careful movements he shifted the long black braid off her shoulder and sent it tumbling down her back. He couldn’t help but notice how her skin stood pale against the slash of her arched eyebrows. “I don’t want to hurt Molly any more than you do. In spite of what my actions might have said yesterday, I only want what’s best for her.”

An emotion he couldn’t read wavered in her eyes before she covered it with a scowl. “Then we’re in agreement. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“Not yet. It’s time we had the rest of it out between us.” He shifted his weight. “All of it.”

Her clenched fists spoke of inflexible resolve. “Now is not a good time for me.”

“Nevertheless, we’re going to settle this. Not only for your sister’s sake, but for yours as well.”

And maybe even for his own.

Here, now, in the confines of the school’s supply closet, Trey finally admitted to himself that he’d been moved by this woman and her painful past long before she’d brought Molly to live with her.

The discovery sat heavy on his heart. How could he have feelings for this woman when his hate and anger drove him so hard? How could he be drawn to Katherine when his only goal should be to avenge his wife’s senseless murder?

How could he betray Laurette like this, even in the secret corners of his mind?

“Please.” Her trapped gaze darted to the exit. “Can’t we do this later?”

He nearly relented at the sight of her unconcealed dismay, at the wave of guilt that had begun to spread through him, but it was time they addressed the real problem standing between them. Without the issue of Molly or the little girl’s future as a buffer. Without his mind consumed with his wife.