“You’ll sign a paper,” Laura said.

“Paper?” Shane echoed.

“Agreeing not to expect me to—well, we’ll have separate bedrooms and such.”

He watched her blush. “You can be sure I’ll never approach you in that way.” He paused. “Unless you want me to.”

“Never!” burst from her lips.

“I’ll sign the paper,” Shane said hastily.

What were they doing, the two of them? Something neither wanted, that was for sure. But Shane would do anything to keep custody of his little sister, and Laura, thankfully, had agreed. So here he was, marrying a perfect stranger, and the deal wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d assumed….

Dear Reader,

Happy anniversary! Twenty years ago, in May, 1980, we launched Silhouette Books. Much has changed since then, but our gratitude to you, our many readers, and our dedication to bringing you the best that romance fiction has to offer, remains as true today as it did in 1980. Thank you for sharing with us the joy of romance, and for looking toward a wonderful future with us. The best is yet to come!

Those winsome mavericks are back with brand-new stories to tell beneath the Big Sky! The Kincaid Bride by Jackie Merritt marks the launch of the MONTANA MAVERICKS: WED IN WHITEHORN series, which focuses on a new generation of Kincaids. This heartwarming marriage-of-convenience tale leads into Silhouette’s exciting twelve-book continuity.

Romance is in the air in The Millionaire She Married, a continuation of the popular CONVENIENTLY YOURS miniseries by reader favorite Christine Rimmer. And searing passion unites a fierce Native American hero with his stunning soul mate in Warrior’s Embrace by Peggy Webb.

If you enjoy romantic odysseys, journey to exotic El Bahar in The Sheik’s Arranged Marriage by Susan Mallery—book two in the sizzling DESERT ROGUES miniseries.

Gail Link pulls heartstrings with her tender tale about a secret child who brings two lovebirds together in Sullivan’s Child. And to cap off the month, you’ll adore Wild Mustang by Jane Toombs—a riveting story about a raven-haired horse wrangler who sweeps a breathtaking beauty off her feet.

It’s a spectacular month of reading in Special Edition. Enjoy!

All the best,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

Wild Mustang
Jane Toombs

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Books by Jane Toombs

Silhouette Special Edition

Nobody’s Baby #1081

Baby of Mine #1182

Accidental Parents #1247

Designated Daddy #1271

Wild Mustang #1326

Silhouette Shadows

Return to Bloodstone House #5

Dark Enchantment #12

What Waits Below #16

The Volan Curse #35

The Woman in White #50

The Abandoned Bride #56

Previously published under the pseudonym Diana Stuart

Silhouette Special Edition

Out of a Dream #353

The Moon Pool #671

Silhouette Desire

Prime Specimen #172

Leader of the Pack #238

The Shadow Between #257

JANE TOOMBS

was born in California, raised in the upper peninsula of Michigan and has moved from New York to Nevada as a result of falling in love with the state and a Nevadan. Jane has five children, two stepchildren and seven grandchildren. Her interests include gardening, reading and knitting.

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 One

The narrow and sparsely traveled blacktopped road leading to the Paiute reservation was in need of repair. There were no fences and, to either side, Nevada’s high desert rolled away in acres of silvery sagebrush and other native plants and grasses. Through the open windows of her rental car, Laura Walker breathed in the sage-tinged spring air, keeping tabs on the wild mustang herd to her left.

As usual, one of the mares was in the lead, the black stallion in rearguard position, protecting his harem. While Laura watched, the lead mare—a dun—altered course, obviously heading for the road. Laura pulled the car to the shoulder and stopped, not wanting to miss seeing the wild horses close-up.

As they neared the road, she counted five mares, the stallion, two yearlings, and one foal, doing its best to keep up. Two mares, one a pinto, one a chestnut, looked to be pregnant and, if she wasn’t mistaken, the spotted mare, now lagging behind the stallion, was lame. The rest of the herd seemed healthy.

The lead mare crossed directly in front of the parked car, the other mustangs following her. Laura caught her breath in admiration of their grace and beauty.

Last was the spotted mare who, Laura now saw, definitely limped. The lame mare was almost across the road when a green pickup zoomed into sight, boom box throbbing. Without slowing, the truck roared past. The startled mare lurched ahead, colliding with the foal and knocking it off its feet.

When Laura saw the baby horse was having trouble getting back up, she flung herself from the car and dashed across the road to try to help. Was the foal injured? She hoped it was nothing serious.

Her attention fixed on the foal, Laura paid no attention to the other mustangs who’d gone on ahead. She hadn’t quite reached the foal when it managed to struggle to its feet unaided, so she stopped, resisting the impulse to touch the baby. She wasn’t here to interfere.

A high-pitched angry scream from behind her made her whirl. Horrified, she stared at the charging, black stallion. He must have decided she was a threat to his harem and circled back without her noticing. Fear froze her—he’d cut her off from her car, and there was no other safe place in sight.

Hooves thrummed from behind her. Before she could move, she found herself grabbed, hoisted into the air, and deposited facedown across a rider’s lap like a sack of potatoes, whooshing the breath from her lungs.

As he urged his gray gelding away from the mustangs, Shane Bearclaw kicked him into a gallop to get away from the roused stallion as fast as possible.

“Stupid,” he muttered, meaning it for the blond woman he’d rescued. “Could’ve been killed.”

When he reached the rise where he’d been when he first noticed her get out of her car, he reined in Cloud and looked to see if the black stallion had calmed down. The herd was moving off, away from the rise. Reaching down, he pulled up the blonde, so she more or less sat on his lap.

“You figure this was a good day to die?” he growled.

She stared at him from frightened eyes as blue as Lake Tahoe, holding her body stiffly away from him. Serve her right to be scared. She’d sure as hell scared the devil out of him.

“The mustangs are wild, and the word means what it says,” he told her. “Wild stallions are dangerous. Anybody with sense doesn’t go near them.”

“Let me down.” Her voice quavered so badly he had trouble making out her words.

“Not unless you promise to get up behind me until I get you to your car. I have no intention of trusting you until I see you get in and drive away. My rodeo days are long gone—I’m not up to trying that trick twice in one day.”

He found himself wishing those spectacular blue eyes didn’t look so fearful. “Hey, it’s over,” he said, in softer tones, suddenly aware that no matter how foolish she might have been, he was holding a very pretty blonde on his lap.

“I’m Shane Bearclaw,” he said, realizing he wanted to know who she was.

Laura looked into the dark eyes of this stranger who held her far too close to him. His long black hair was tied back, revealing a strong-featured face. In a way, he reminded her of the stallion who’d threatened her. She found Shane Bearclaw equally threatening.

“Laura Walker,” she managed to say. “I was coming to meet you at your ranch. And, yes, I’d much prefer to be seated behind you.”

This was not the greatest of beginnings as far as she was concerned. Her fear of him was beginning to abate, leaving in its place an edgy awareness of him as a man. That, she could do without.

He offered a one-sided grin as he slid off the gray. “So you’re the semi-Fed in person.”

“The what?” she asked as she eased back until she was behind the saddle.

He remounted. “Anyone who arrives on the reservation with the Fed’s blessing.”

“I have a federal grant, but I’m not otherwise connected in any way with the government.” Indignation threaded through her words.

A shrug told her that he intended to go on thinking of her as he darn well pleased. Deciding she’d delayed far too long in demanding to be taken back to her car, she remedied that in crisp tones.

“If you’ll drop me off at my car, I’ll meet you at your ranch, and we can then discuss how I can best meet my objectives with your help.”

Without a word, he urged his horse into motion, and she found holding onto him was almost as intimate as sitting on his lap. But it was either hang on or fall off.

What seemed like long minutes later, he halted the gray by her car, slid off, and helped her down. “How good are your directions?” he asked. “The ranch isn’t on a main road.”

“Sketchy,” she admitted, stepping away from him.

He rattled off his own version of how to get there.

She nodded and got into the car. Watching him ride away, she realized he was a superb horseman and belatedly remembered that she’d forgotten to thank him for rescuing her. No wonder. No sooner had she gotten her breath back from being suddenly flung onto a horse, when she’d found herself sitting on a strange man’s lap.

Laura had thought her uneasiness around men was under control, but she hadn’t anticipated such an intimate confrontation as she’d had with Shane Bear-claw. And this was the man she’d be working with over the next month or so. A take-charge macho-type who wouldn’t equate brains with women.

Learn to reserve judgment. Laura could almost hear her therapist’s voice. Men are not all the same.

Maybe not. Maybe that big brute on the horse hadn’t been trying to intimidate her. But it certainly felt that way.

“Tenderfoot,” Shane muttered to himself as he rode back to the ranch. Laura Walker, slim and fragile-looking, didn’t strike him as a woman who’d be a happy camper out on the range.

He’d cooperate as promised, but he hoped her mustang studies, whatever they were, wouldn’t take long. He had enough problems without shepherding a greenhorn around—the major one being his fear of losing his custody battle.

“You know I prefer leaving a child in the home she’s accustomed to,” Judge Rankin had told him last week. “But, face it, Shane, there’s no woman in your household. The child’s father has remarried and he and his wife offer a stable environment for the little girl.”

“The ranch is a good environment,” Shane had protested, deliberately misunderstanding.

Judge Rankin had given him a level look. “If you were married, I’d have no problem.”

Shane pressed the gelding into a lope. Married? Not a hope. Not ever again. He’d sworn off it.

After driving along several unmarked gravel roads, Laura pulled into the small oasis surrounding the Bearclaw ranch house. Her brother had told her the desert soil was fertile, all it needed was water and anything would grow. The greenery around the house proved him right. Besides the flowering shrubs near the house foundation, massive cottonwoods shaded the long, low building, testifying to how long people had lived in this spot.

As she left the car, she saw the neat green rows of a fenced-in vegetable garden. Otherwise the yard was left as the desert intended, with no lawn for water to be wasted on. Outbuildings in back included a barn with an attached corral. The house itself was adobe brick with a tile roof.

Before she reached the front door, it opened and a dark-haired girl of about nine or ten stood framed in the doorway. Unlike Shane, she had hazel eyes.

“Hi,” she said, “I’m Sage. You must be Ms. Walker. Shane said you were coming today, and I’ve been waiting. Grandfather has, too, but he doesn’t get antsy like me. You’re lots prettier than I thought you’d be.”

Shane’s daughter? Laura smiled at her. “Then I guess you couldn’t have expected very much.”

“Please come in,” Sage said, stepping aside so Laura could enter.

Ushered into a pleasantly uncluttered living room, Laura chose an attractively decorated leather chair to sit in.

“I made iced tea,” Sage told her. “Would you like some? It’s real tea, not out of a jar ’cause Grandfather hates instant stuff.”

“Thank you, I would,” Laura told her, touched by the little girl’s effort to be a good hostess.

It then occurred to her that the child might actually be the only hostess in the house. She hadn’t mentioned a mother, only a grandfather.

A carving of a horse—surely a wild mustang—on the mantel of the stone fireplace caught Laura’s eye. She rose to take a closer look and was admiring how well the carver seemed to have captured the mustang spirit when Sage came back with a tray.

“This horse is beautiful,” she told the girl.

Sage nodded. “Shane says he senses what animal is in the wood before he starts carving. Grandfather says that’s the mark of a medicine man. So now Shane’s learning all that medicine stuff.”

She set the tray carefully on a polished slab of wood masquerading as a coffee table and offered a paper napkin and a glass to Laura. “Do you take sugar or sweetener?” she asked. “’Cause I didn’t put any in, in case you don’t.”

“This is how I like my tea,” Laura said, resuming her seat, trying to integrate the scowling man who’d rescued her with the obviously sensitive sculptor.

“I like lots of sugar,” Sage confided. “So does Grandfather.”

As if that was a cue, a gray-haired older man, still ramrod straight, entered the room. His hair, like Shane’s, was long and tied back. His shrewd, dark eyes fixed on Laura.

“Grandfather,” Sage said, “this is Ms. Walker.”

The old man nodded. “Howell Bearclaw,” he told her. “I don’t like being called mister, and I don’t like being called Howell much, either. I prefer Grandfather. To us, that’s a title of respect.” Unexpectedly, he grinned at her.

“You don’t have to call me that till you find something about me to respect. What’ll we call you?”

She smiled. “I like being called Laura.”

Sage handed him a glass of tea. He tasted it, nodded in approval, and took the chair opposite Laura’s.

“You’ve come to count the wild horses on our land,” he said.

She shook her head. “Not exactly. My government grant is for determining the overall health of the mustang herds. Nevada, and your reservation, is my first stop. Later, I’ll be doing the same thing in the other states where they range. The Bureau of Land Management estimates Nevada has 22,500 of the 42,000 wild horses in the West.”

He grunted. “At least you don’t call them estrays like the BLM. What kind of word is that? Wild is wild.”

Recalling the stallion, Laura had to agree. Government agencies like the BLM had their own names for things, but wild was most certainly wild.

“My grandson’s going to ride out with you,” he said.

Though it wasn’t a question, Laura nodded. “I hope he doesn’t mind.” Thinking about her meeting with Shane, she was none too sure he was happy about it.

“He’s no grandson of mine if he doesn’t jump at the chance to escort a pretty woman,” Grandfather said.

“I already told her she was pretty,” Sage put in. “She’s nice, too.”

“Must be smart, too, to get that grant.”

Laura was somewhat taken aback at the turn of conversation—almost as though she weren’t there.

Sage turned to her and asked, “Are you married?”

Since there was no reason not to answer, Laura replied, “No, I’m not.” She didn’t add that she never would be, either. That was none of their business.

Sage and her grandfather exchanged a look.

What on earth is all this about? Laura asked herself.

“That makes three of us,” Grandfather said.

Sage giggled. “I’m too young to be married.”

Grandfather frowned at her. “And I suppose you figure I’m too old.”

They both gazed at Laura. What did they expect her to say? Like Goldilocks, that her age was just right?

“Marriage isn’t on my agenda,” she said flatly.

“We are not behaving like proper hosts,” Grandfather said. “We’ve embarrassed our guest by asking a personal question.”

“I’m sorry,” Sage said. “It’s just that Laura’s so pretty I thought she must be married.”

They were at it again, talking about her as if she weren’t in the same room. Though she was inclined to like both of them, she found this trait disturbing. She doubted it was a Paiute custom.

“We are alone too much, Laura,” Grandfather said, this time addressing her directly.

“Yes,” Sage chimed in. “So will you forgive us?”

“I wasn’t offended,” she assured them.

“He’s coming,” Grandfather said. “I’ll go out and take care of Cloud.” Looking at Sage, he added, “You stay and entertain our guest.” He left the room.

Though Laura presumed he meant Shane, she hadn’t heard anything to indicate Shane’s immediate arrival.

“You didn’t ask me what grade I’m in and where I go to school,” Sage told her.

“Should I have?”

Sage shook her head. “Most people do. It gets boring ’cause they don’t really care. Grandfather says never ask a question unless you really want to hear the answer. But then it usually turns out that the questions you want to ask are personal, and people don’t want to answer them.”

Laura took this as a roundabout apology. “Yes, that’s a real bummer, isn’t it?”

She was rewarded with a brilliant smile. “As soon as I heard you were coming, I knew I was going to like you,” Sage said.

“I didn’t know you existed until I got here, but now that we’ve met, I hope we’ll get to know one another better.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Sage raised her head as though listening. “Here comes Shane.” She gazed expectantly at the entrance to the living room.

Only then did Laura hear booted footsteps.

“Excuse me, I have to talk to Grandfather,” Sage said, rising and darting from the room.

Leaving me to face the ogre alone, Laura thought, setting down her empty glass.

In walked Shane, even more impressively masculine than Laura had remembered—stiffening her resolve not to let him intimidate her. Attractive, yes, but that didn’t make him any more appealing to her.

Shane eyed Laura, sitting up straight with her feet crossed ladylike at the ankles, her dressy pantsuit neat, despite the untidy rescue. A city girl. He groaned inwardly, knowing he was stuck with her for at least a month, maybe more. Yeah, she was pretty in her own quiet way, but that wouldn’t make his nursemaid task any easier.

“I was remiss in not immediately thanking you for rescuing me,” Laura said primly.

The way she said it made him feel she didn’t like him any the better for saving her life.

“We’re both lucky it worked,” he said bluntly.

Laura nodded, wishing he’d sit down. It made her nervous to be loomed over.

“Shall we discuss what kind of a schedule would best suit you?” she asked. “I’m quite flexible.”

“Let’s make sure I know what you want from me.”

“I’d like to borrow a horse to ride, if that’s possible,” she said. At his nod, she continued. “Since this is your home territory, I hope you’ll be able to locate the herds on the reservation for me so I can count the horses and get an overall impression of their health.”

“First—you do understand that mustangs make no distinction between reservation land, BLM land, or privately owned ranch land? They aren’t ‘our’ horses, they’re free-ranging.”

“I’m quite aware of that, but I understand at least two herds seem to spend most of their time on Paiute land.” Laura was congratulating herself on her businesslike approach despite her nervousness, when Sage popped into the room.

“Grandfather has asked me to invite you to stay here at the ranch with us,” Sage said to Laura. “Please say you will. We have lots of room, and it’ll be way more convenient for you. Otherwise, you’ll have to drive back and forth from Reno all the time.”

Though taken aback, Laura noticed Shane seemed even more surprised than she was at the invitation.

Before Laura could respond, Sage added plaintively, “I really wish you’d stay here, so we could get to know each other better, like you said.”

Sympathy for Sage’s need for female company shot down Laura’s instinctive refusal before the words passed her lips. She understood what it was to be lonely.

Shane frowned at Sage. “I don’t think Ms. Walker would want to—”

Laura cut him off. “Please tell your grandfather I’m grateful for his thoughtfulness,” she said to the girl. “If Mr. Bearclaw here approves, I accept the kind offer.”

Privately, she reserved her right to retreat to a Reno hotel if it proved uncomfortable to be in the same house with Shane.

“Stay, by all means,” Shane said, in such a determinedly neutral tone, that Laura knew he’d been hoping she’d refuse.

Maybe that was part of the reason she’d accepted. Certainly if he’d invited her, she never would have, though the truth was, staying at the ranch would be more convenient.

“I’ll bring my things with me when I come in the morning, then,” Laura said. Looking at Shane, she added, “What time will you be ready to ride?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Whenever you get here.”

Since Sage was so eager to play hostess, Shane let her show Laura to the door, watching her walk away despite not meaning to. She moved as gracefully as any mare, which was, coming from him, a compliment. So many women either plodded or sashayed, neither of which conveyed grace.

Without willing himself to, he wandered to the window where he’d be able to see her get into her car.

“Laura will be good company for Sage while she’s here,” Grandfather said from in back of him, having arrived soundlessly, as usual. “That’s why I told Sage to ask her to stay with us.”

Shane turned to face him. “I wondered why you hadn’t bothered to consult me.”

“Partners in running the ranch we may be, but I am still Grandfather.”

“Yes, Respected Elder.” Shane said the words with affectionate mockery.

Grandfather grinned at him. “And don’t you forget it.”

Shane had to agree that female company would be good for Sage, but he’d be willing to bet old Bearclaw had something else up his sleeve. Grandfather had the most devious mind on the res. And more than likely in the entire state of Nevada.

Still, what could be his scheme? He’d never interfered in Shane’s private life, so the fact Laura was a woman shouldn’t have anything to do with it, other than her being company for Sage, like he’d said. What then? The mustangs? The fact that she might have some sort of in with the Feds?

Shane shook his head to both possibilities. Maybe he was just imagining Grandfather planning something. What would be the point?

Chapter Two

As Laura drove back from the reservation to Reno, she told herself she shouldn’t have been swayed, by her empathy with Sage, into accepting the invitation to stay at the Bearclaw ranch. She was bound to be uncomfortable in Shane’s house. It would be difficult enough when they rode together in search of the wild horses—why had she let herself in for more awkwardness in the evenings?

Though she didn’t trust any man except her brother Nathan, Shane was typical of the kind of man who unnerved her the most. He was big and rugged and so very much there. If he was present, he couldn’t be ignored.

Yet, how could she have resisted the appeal in Sage’s eyes? The girl so obviously wanted her to agree to stay. What had happened to the girl’s mother? she wondered. Laura had gotten the distinct feeling there was no woman in the Bearclaw home.

She really hadn’t minded the girl’s personal questions because she felt they were innocent, that Sage merely wanted to know more about her. In any case, the girl hadn’t been the first one to ask Laura if she was married. Sometimes people went on to ask why not, which was far more offensive. The first question was easy to answer. The second was not, and she didn’t even try, but merely shrugged and either walked away or changed the subject.

The truth was, despite the therapy Laura had been through over the years, she’d never been able to convince herself that kind words and smiles from men weren’t a cover for deception of some kind. The best protection was to stay single. Permanently.

At the hotel, she was reluctant to go to her room after she ate because there was nothing to do there except watch TV. So she wandered through the casino, eyeing the devotees at the slot machines, but not venturing even a nickel of her own money.

There is such a thing as being over-cautious. Her therapist’s words. Laura shrugged. Maybe she was, but caution kept her safe, didn’t it?

As usual, she ignored the occasional male stares and comments aimed at any, even minimally attractive, unaccompanied young woman. She’d gotten so effective at this, very few men ever persisted in coming on to her. Pausing to listen to the trio in the lounge for a time, she admired the female singer’s performance, as the woman swayed and gestured in time to the music. True, it was no more than a performance, but a tinge of envy made Laura sigh. The singer seemed so naturally uninhibited that she was a pleasure to watch.

If only I could act even half that free and easy, Laura thought. If only I didn’t have to keep monitoring my behavior so I don’t attract attention from men.

Finally feeling the effects of jet lag, she went to her room and got ready for bed. Though she fell asleep right away, she kept rousing throughout the night, probably because she was so apprehensive about working with Shane. Near dawn she finally got up, dressed in riding jeans, boots, and Western shirt and went down to eat breakfast. One great advantage of Nevada casino-hotels was being able to eat at any hour of the day or night. Twenty-four-hour service. Breakfast over, she decided to head for the ranch, even though she’d be arriving really early. It’d serve macho Shane right if she got there before he was up. Quickly packing her belongings, she checked out.

When she got to the ranch house, Sage answered her knock and insisted on helping to carry in her things.

“Grandfather and Shane are in the barn,” Sage said, when Laura was settled into a sparsely furnished but comfortable-looking bedroom. “There’s coffee if you want some.”

After refusing any food, Laura sat in the kitchen with Sage, drinking a mug of coffee.

“Whoa,” the girl said. “For somebody who doesn’t put anything in tea, you sure use a lot of sugar in your coffee. And cream, too.”

Laura grinned at her. “It goes to show no one’s perfect, not even me.”

“I guess.” Sage fidgeted in her chair, finally adding, “I’m not supposed to ask any personal stuff, but I might forget. You won’t get mad, will you?”

After shaking her head, Laura said, “I think maybe it’s my turn to ask questions.”

“Cool. I don’t care if they’re personal ones.” Sage looked at her expectantly.

After discovering who the girl’s favorite actors and singers were, Laura asked about her friends.

“Maria and Donna are my two best friends,” Sage told her. “They live on the res, too, but not very nearby. Sometimes I mind we can’t get together oftener, but mostly I don’t. I’m sort of used to hanging out with Grandfather.” She hesitated, and then said vehemently, “I don’t ever want to move away from here. Never ever. If they try to make me move to smoggy L.A., I won’t go.”

“Are Shane and your grandfather planning to move there?”

Sage shook her head. “It’s my father. He got married again, and now he wants me to come and live with him and her. I don’t even know her.”

Laura blinked. Up until now, she’d assumed Sage was Shane’s daughter.

Looking down at the table where she traced spirals with her finger, Sage said, “Me and my mom left him when I was four ’cause he was mean to her. We came here to live with my brother Shane and Grandfather. Then she got sick and died two years ago. Shane told me I could stay at the ranch forever if I wanted. Now my father is trying to make the judge say I have to leave and go live with him.” She blinked back tears.

Laura scooted her chair over and put an arm around the girl’s shoulders.

“I’m scared,” Sage confessed. “I don’t remember my father too good. What if he’s still mean? I don’t want to leave Shane and Grandfather, but what if the judge makes me? Why don’t I get to say what I want?”

Her heart touched, Laura hugged the girl closer. It sickened her to think that Sage might ever become the victim of an abusive father. She wished she could promise the girl that she’d be able to choose where she wanted to live. Impossible, when she knew nothing about the circumstances.

The kitchen door opened, and Sage pulled away. Laura stood up and faced Shane, feeling a shock at the reality of him. When he wasn’t present, it was easier to categorize him and pretend to herself she’d be able to deal with him. Up close, she found him overwhelming.

“Good,” he told her, his gaze flicking over her, no doubt assessing how appropriate her clothes were for riding. “We can get an early start. Hope you brought a broad-brimmed hat—at this altitude, you’ll need one to prevent sunburn.”

Despite telling herself she intended to limit her reply to a curt nod, she found herself saying, “I’ve been in this part of Nevada before. Naturally I brought a hat. And sunscreen.”

He was the one who gave the curt nod. “Let’s get going then.”

Sage trailed them to the corral and shook her head over the mare Shane had chosen for Laura. “Rabbit’s for scaredy-cat beginners,” she told her brother. “I bet you never even asked Laura what kind of a rider she was.”

Laura smiled to herself. Of course he hadn’t, being one of those men who knew best. She waited, determined not to say anything until he spoke.

“The question isn’t how good you are,” he said to Laura, “but how long a ride you’re accustomed to.”

“I qualify somewhere above a scaredy-cat beginner,” she said coolly, making herself stare into those dark, fathomless eyes.

He shrugged and turned to his sister. “I suppose you want to do the picking.”

“I sure can do better than Rabbit,” Sage told him. “How about Columbine?” She pointed to what looked to Laura like an Arabian mare, a chestnut. “That’s her name but we call her Colly.”

Shane raised his eyebrows at Laura.

“Colly’s beautiful,” she said. “I’d like to ride her. Arabian, isn’t she?”

He smiled. “Some of her ancestry must have been, but she’s of mustang stock. We picked her up as a filly who’d been injured. By the time she was healthy and whole, she was too domesticated to turn loose, so we kept her. On the trail, Colly can outlast any horse we own.” His dubious glance told her he didn’t think she’d come anywhere close to Colly’s ability.

After Cloud and Colly were saddled, Shane and Laura set off, with Sage waving from the corral.

“I hope we’ll be able to spot the black stallion’s herd again,” Laura said after they’d ridden some time in silence. “One of his mares—a pregnant pinto—was lame. I need to get a better look at her.”

“He’s got two pinto mares. Which one?” Shane’s words made her certain he must know every mustang in that herd.

“If she were a cat I’d call her a calico.”

He nodded. “I know the one. Must be a recent injury. She wasn’t lame the last time I got a good look at the herd.”

“It was obvious yesterday.” As soon as the words were out she realized he probably hadn’t noticed the mare, being too busy coming to her rescue. The sooner she came to terms with that the better.

“Yesterday wasn’t the greatest introduction in the world for us,” she said, facing her mistake squarely. “It was poor judgment for me not to pay closer attention to the stallion.”

Shane had been wondering if she’d ever admit her mistake. Now that she had, he was forced to revise his estimate of her. She also sat on Colly like a pro and rode well. The question that remained was how long she could last.

She was quiet for some time before saying, “This morning Sage told me something that keeps troubling me. Is it true her father is trying to gain custody? She seems terrified that he will.”

The last thing Shane wanted to do was discuss his problems with a stranger, but since his sister had already hung out the family laundry, the least he could do would be to give Laura the straight facts.

“My mother had me when she was very young. My father died when I was eighteen, and two years later, she remarried off the reservation and went to live with her husband in southern California. Sage was born there. My mother brought her back to the ranch when she was four, and the two of them never left.”

“Sage said her father was mean,” Laura said.

“Our mother told us that,” Shane said shortly, a muscle tightening in his jaw. From the moment his mother had come home, he’d hated Bill Jennings, the man who’d become his stepfather.

Just as quickly, he’d come to love his little sister. The thought of Sage going to live with that man set his teeth on edge.

“Surely no judge would force a child to live with a man known to be abusive,” Laura said, her indignation clear in her voice.

“There’s no evidence of any abuse. When she lived with him, my mother never called the authorities, so there’s no record. And now she’s dead. The judge feels since Sage’s father has remarried, she’d benefit by having a woman to mother her.”

Laura didn’t speak for a while. “Forgive me if I’m getting too personal,” she said at last. “I can’t help but be concerned about Sage’s future. If the judge seems to think Sage needs a woman’s influence, isn’t there someone you know that you could marry? Surely the judge wouldn’t favor moving Sage then.”

He scowled. “Marriage is out. It’s not for me.”

To his surprise, she nodded. “I understand because I never intend to marry myself. Still, you might come to some kind of accommodation—I suppose it might be called a marriage in name only—to satisfy the judge. Once he rules in your favor, after a time the marriage could be dissolved.”

He started to brush off the suggestion with a terse remark, then held, staring at her. What was it Grandfather had said last night? Something about what a nice young lady Laura was, just the person Sage needed to have around.

At the time he’d thought Grandfather meant for temporary company. Ha. What that clever old trickster was trying to do was set him up. That was the reason behind his inviting Laura to stay at the ranch.

Shane snorted in disgust at being taken in. Realizing he’d startled Laura, he turned away. She’d had no part in this, he felt almost sure. Not once had she indicated she so much as liked him. He wondered why.

Most women found him attractive. He’d be a fool if he hadn’t noticed that. But it was clear to him that Laura didn’t. He glanced at her and caught her looking at him apprehensively. Was she afraid of him? Why should she be?

“Is something bothering you?” she said, flinging her words at him like bullets.

He blinked. “What makes you ask?”

“You keep scowling.”

Shane hadn’t realized he was. “It’s not aimed at you.” He paused for a moment, then asked, “Why is it you never intend to marry?”

“I—well, I—” she faltered. He watched her take a deep breath and raise her chin. “Due to something that happened in the past, I don’t trust men,” she went on. “I prefer to have nothing but impersonal dealings with them. I absolutely can’t imagine marrying.” She gave him a level look. “Why don’t you intend to marry?”

It wasn’t any of her damn business. But, after a moment, he realized he’d posed the question first, and she’d given him an answer. Fair was fair. He owed her some kind of an explanation.

“The usual,” he said tersely. “We were young and ignorant, she got pregnant, so we got married. A mistake. We didn’t mesh. I took off and joined the rodeo circuit, wasn’t home much. She and my daughter were killed in an accident while I was gone.” He made a slashing motion with his hand. “Never again.”

He had no intention of telling her how Deena had begun running around and that the fatal accident had been when she was coming home from her newest lover’s place, the baby with her. Nor was he going to confess his guilt. If he hadn’t run off, if he’d faced their incompatibility head-on and filed for divorce, asking for custody of his daughter, both she and Deena would be alive today.

Hating to hash over the unchangeable past, he shucked it off by taking a quick look around. Spotting some dust rising, he pointed. “Might be a herd over that way. We’ll head for the nearest rise and see what it is.”

When they paused at the crest of the hill, he saw he was right, but the mustangs were heading away from them and were already so far away they’d never catch up. Any pursuit would simply make them run all the faster and farther.

“To get close to a herd, you really need to camp out near a source of water so they’ll come to you,” he said. “Since they normally range over about twenty acres per day, it’s futile to chase them. That’ll just result in them taking off and likely moving off reservation land.”

“I can see that,” she said. “Shall we plan to camp tomorrow?” Concealing his surprise that she didn’t balk at camping with him, he said, “Up to you. But it’ll have to wait for a couple of days.”

“Whenever you have the time, then.” She hesitated before saying, “I want to tell you I’m sorry about what happened to your wife and child. I realize the tragedy must make it doubly distressing for you now that you have to worry about losing Sage.”

He couldn’t lose Sage, that’s all there was to it. His sister belonged here, where their mother had brought her, knowing he’d keep the girl safe.

Back at the ranch, Shane found the evening meal livelier with Laura present. Not that she did much talking. She didn’t have a chance with Sage and Grandfather both vying for her attention.

After the meal cleanup, Sage brought out her favorite shirt, which she’d torn on a nail in the barn, to show to Laura.

“I don’t know how to fix it without having it look gross,” Sage told her.

Though he seemed intent on the newspaper he was reading, Shane was acutely aware of Laura sitting across from him on the leather couch with his sister. It’d been a long time since there’d been a woman in this living room in the evening.

“You’re right. Any repair stitches would show,” Laura said. “But what we could do is cover the stitching with embroidery—a flowering branch could run from one end of the repair job to the other.”

“Embroidery?” Sage sounded as though even the word was alien to her.

“My grandmother taught me when I was about your age. It’s not exactly fun, but it’s kind of neat to know how to embroider. I can teach you, if you like.”

“But if I’m just learning, I might spoil my shirt.”

“Oh, we’ll let you practice on the hem of a pillowcase or something like that. Embroidery isn’t all that hard once you get the hang of it. We’ll need to buy some special thread and some designs, though—in Reno, I suppose.”

Shane lowered the newspaper. “There might be what you need in Grandmother’s trunk,” he said to Sage. “I seem to remember her trying to teach our mother some kind of fancy sewing.”

Sage bounced up from the couch. “Whoa! Really? Can we go look in the trunk now?”

From the corner where he’d seemed to be dozing, Grandfather said, “Our daughter wasn’t much for fancy work, but she turned out to be the best dancer on the res. Not much for picking good men, either, but I got to admit she turned out two pretty good kids.”

Sage grinned at him. “How come you’re always telling me I’m bad, then?”

“It’s like Coyote—you got two sides.” Grandfather turned to Shane. “All that sewing stuff is in one of the reed baskets Grandmother’s mother made.”

Shane rose and left the room, with Sage trailing him.

“He’s a sound man,” Grandfather said to Laura. “Once he learns to laugh again, he’ll be hard to beat.”

Laura tried to think how to respond to this but gave up. She found herself at ease with Grandfather as a man, but she wasn’t always sure exactly what he meant.

Reverting to what he’d said to Sage, she asked, “What did you mean about Coyote having two sides?”

“One to do good for the people, the other to play tricks on them. I figure we’re all more or less like that.” He leaned forward in his chair, fixing her with an intent gaze. “We can’t lose Sage. We need her, and she needs us.” While Laura believed this to be true, she didn’t understand how Grandfather could think she’d be able to help, even though she wanted to.

“So you’re going camping with Shane,” the old man said, completely changing the subject. At least this one was easy to respond to.

“When he finds time—maybe in a day or two,” she said.

Grandfather nodded. “Desert nights.”

She was sure his cryptic words meant something that she was missing. “I’m sure they’re lovely,” she said cautiously.

“Can carry a chill this time of the year,” he told her.

That seemed fairly straightforward, but before she could reply, Shane reappeared with Sage who was carrying a beautifully woven, round basket, its muted-colored design scarcely faded with age. The girl dumped the contents of the basket onto the coffee-table, and Laura leaned forward to sort through them. In no time at all, she’d located what she needed and, sooner than Shane would have believed possible, his sister was getting her first lesson in embroidery and, by all indications, having fun.

Grandfather rose and, in passing Shane’s chair, murmured, “Get along well, don’t they?”

Shane grunted, well aware now of the old man’s motives. Grandfather knew very well why Shane would never marry again. He also ought to have known that dangling Laura in front of him, like a carrot held out to entice a mule, was not going to work.

“What you need is a kick in the rear,” was Grandfather’s parting shot before exiting.

Despite himself, Shane carried to bed with him the image of the two heads—blond and black—bent over the sewing. He had to admit Laura really seemed to like his sister. As for Sage, she was obviously in the throes of heroine worship.

When he woke around three, he found himself weighing the pros and cons of Laura’s suggestion about—how had she put it?—a marriage of accommodation. He cast his mind over possible candidates among the women he knew, assessed them and, one by one, rejected them.

Cursing himself for even considering the idea, he turned over and tried to chase down sleep. But as fast as he reached for it, the faster it drew away.

Keep my little girl safe. He heard the echo of his mother’s words in his head. She’d known she was dying and hadn’t seemed frightened for herself, only for Sage. How easy it had seemed then to think he always would be able to protect his baby sister.

There must be a way. Unfortunately, the only idea he could think of that seemed likely to work had come from Laura, and that one was impossible. There might be more than one woman in the world he’d like to take to bed, but there wasn’t any he wanted to marry.

Marriage was a trap. A snare and a delusion. It brought grief and heartache and guilt. And in his mother’s case, disillusion and pain. He wanted no part of it.

Chapter Three

Laura was in good spirits as she and Shane rode out early in the cool of the morning. So far, there’d been no problem staying at the ranch. She welcomed the chance to make friends with Sage, although she’d never imagined she’d wind up teaching any girl to embroider.

It was a skill she hadn’t called up in years, but, as it turned out, she hadn’t forgotten. “Like riding a bicycle,” she said aloud.

Shane turned to look at her. “Bicycle?”

“I was thinking that we rarely forget skills we learned as children,” she told him.

“I was six when my father taught me how to whittle,” he said.

“I admire the mustang on your mantel. You’re really talented. I didn’t notice any other pieces, though.”

“Most of what I make goes to the shops to be sold. Keeps us eating.”

If the wild horse was any example, she thought his carvings ought to fetch top prices.

They rode in silence for a while, Laura enjoying the clean desert air and the sight of the snow-capped Sierra peaks in the distance. “What’s the altitude here?” she asked.

“Over four thousand feet.” His glance was assessing. “Tends to bother people coming from near sea level.”

“So if I sleep in, that’s why?” she asked. Actually she’d had trouble forcing herself out of bed this morning. Sheer determination had fueled her I’ll-show-him attitude or she’d still be asleep.

He half-smiled. “Somehow, I don’t think you will.”

After another silence, he pointed to some sleek, streamlined clouds drifting over the Sierra peaks. “Lenticulars. Some weather heading our way. You can feel the dampness in the air.”

“You’re the local weather expert—I’ll take your word for it.”

“Smell the air.”

It was an order, so she did. His raised eyebrows told her that he expected a comment.

“The scent of sage is maybe a bit stronger than usual.”

He nodded. “Damp air.”

She wondered if she’d passed some kind of test. Not that she cared. No, wait, that wasn’t true. She did want to impress upon him that she wasn’t a person to be given the slowest, safest mare in the corral. She was a professional who knew what she was doing, and sooner or later he’d be forced to recognize it.

A plume of dust caught her eye. Before she could point it out, he said, “We’ll head for those cottonwoods to the right. They run along a stream, and chances are the herd’s coming to the water. If we get there first and stay still, we won’t spook ’em.”

He was right. As they waited under the branches covered with the bright green leaves of early June, the mustangs they’d spotted gathered upstream—five of them. To her disappointment, the calico pinto mare wasn’t among them. In fact—weren’t they all stallions?

“Is that what they call a bachelor herd?” she asked in a low tone, admiring a white horse a bit smaller than the others.

“Right. All young males who haven’t collected a harem yet.”

As they watched the mustangs drink, then wheel and trot off, Laura was once again awed by their fluid grace. She’d never imagined she’d be so moved by the sight of wild horses.

“Might as well dismount and take a break,” Shane said.

Somewhat surprised, since they hadn’t been riding long, she agreed. Once off the mare, she wandered down to the stream—narrow, but containing a respectable amount of water. From what her brother had told her about Nevada, she figured this was snow-melt and that, later in the summer, the creek might run dry.

Dipping her fingers in the cold water confirmed her guess. Rejoining Shane near the trunk of a good-sized tree, she turned up her face for a moment to feel the warmth of the sun filtering through the leafy branches. What a peaceful scene. She’d have relaxed completely if only she hadn’t been so aware of the man standing no more that two feet away.

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” he said, not looking at her.

She waited. When he didn’t go on, she asked, “About what?”

“About what you said.”

She’d said a lot of things. “You’ll have to be specific.”

Shane flicked her a glance. This was going to be even harder than he’d thought. He sure as hell didn’t want to say what must be said or do what must be done. The trouble was, he couldn’t figure any other way.

When he’d roused in the grayness of pre-dawn, he’d seen the solution there before him, like jigsaw puzzle pieces fitted together, each piece a separate entity, but together creating a whole. Like a puzzle, it could be taken apart again, which was the only reason he’d considered it.

“It’s about my sister,” he said. “I didn’t tell you yesterday, but Judge Rankin warned me I ought to get married or else he’d have trouble letting me keep Sage. Then you talked about what you called a marriage of accommodation.”

She smiled at him. “Yes, I did. I really do think that’s your best choice at this point, since you don’t seem to have any woman in mind you really want to marry.”

“So you agree.”

He caught her nod from the corner of his eye. Good. This might turn out to be simpler than he’d figured. Still it was hard to get the words out.

“Grandfather seconds my choice,” he temporized. “In fact, it was his choice first.”

“All the better.”

Go for it, man, he told himself. Stop hedging. Facing her directly, he said, “Grandfather thinks you’re the perfect person for the judge to accept, and I’ve decided he’s right. Since I don’t want to get married and neither do you, we are, as the ads say, made for each other—at least as far as this situation goes.” He cut off his nervous babbling. Damn, but he was on edge.

She stared up at him, her mouth slightly open. He hadn’t before noticed how perfectly shaped her lips were. Not that it mattered. He kept waiting for her to speak, but she seemed dumbstruck.

“Well?” he muttered.

“I—uh—I—” She swallowed and stopped, looking as wild-eyed as a frightened mustang.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “It was your idea.”

“Well, yes, but I didn’t mean me,” she sputtered. “I can’t—I couldn’t possibly. No.”

“Why not? It’s not like it’s for real.”

“But you—that is, I—what I mean is, I don’t want to expose myself to—” She broke off, looking away from him.

“Expose yourself to what? Me? Hell, I thought you understood I don’t want anything from you except your agreement to be a wife on paper.”

“I do understand that. But I—”

“You’re scared.”

“No!”

He laid a hand on her shoulder, removing it before she could flinch away. “Then why are you trembling?” he asked. “You remind me of a spooked mare.”

With great effort, Laura pulled herself together. There was no use trying to explain. Shane couldn’t possibly understand why she was “spooked.”

“I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “I just can’t. Shall we get on with our ride?”

They’d made a sweep of one section of the reservation without coming across any mustangs before Shane suggested they start back. Up until then, neither of them had said a word.

“We’ll be taking a day off tomorrow,” he added. “No point in riding in the rain, and it’ll give me a chance to get into town.”

Laura had no doubt it would rain. Even she could now feel the change in the air—which corresponded to a change in her. Though she still viewed his proposal askance, she was beginning to ask herself if she hadn’t overreacted.

Shane didn’t want to get married any more than she did. Surely he’d be amenable to putting everything in writing—separate rooms and all that. Did she believe he’d abide by the written agreement? That was the poser.

Supposing she did believe he would—could she then tolerate the idea of such a marriage?

When they reached the barn, she was still pondering the possibility. Seeing Sage come running out to meet them, her face alight with welcome, Laura’s heart contracted. How vulnerable the girl was. Sage must never be allowed to go through anything even vaguely similar to what had happened to her when she was young. Never!

I’ll talk to Grandfather, Laura decided. He knows Shane far better than I.

Her chance came almost immediately. Sage had been invited to Donna’s house for a sleepover and wanted Shane’s permission. When he gave it, she then needed a ride to her friend’s house, some distance away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t start supper,” Sage said to Laura. “I was going to make chicken enchiladas. Donna’s mom showed me how, and I wrote it down. It’s real easy.”

Laura smiled at her. “That’s good, because I’ve never made them. I can cook, though, honest.”

“Oh, I knew you could cook. I expect you can do most anything. But this recipe is sort of different ’cause there’s no tomatoes in it. You don’t mind having to get supper ready?”

Laura shook her head. “Not a bit. You go and enjoy the sleepover with Donna.”

“Is it all right if I hug you goodbye?” Sage asked, when she had her sleeping gear piled by the door.

Laura responded by hugging Sage. “Have a good time,” she told the girl.

After the door closed behind Shane and his sister, Laura sighed. How long had it been since she’d hugged anyone? Not since she’d last seen her brother and his wife and their son Tim. She hadn’t visited them yet on this trip to Nevada because she’d wanted to start working first.

She walked slowly back into the kitchen and found Grandfather seated at the table with a glass of iced tea. “Sage made you some without sugar,” he said, nodding his head toward the refrigerator.

After pouring herself a glass, Laura sat down across from him.

“You got the look of someone with a troubled heart,” he said.

“It’s Sage,” she said, approaching the subject at a tangent. “She doesn’t want to leave you and Shane and it sounds as though she may have to unless—” She hesitated, uncertain how to go on.

“Unless you marry Shane.”

Laura blinked. How did he know? “Has Shane discussed this with you?” she asked.

Grandfather shook his head. “Sage and I had it all figured out he’d have to marry someone. Problem was, we knew he wouldn’t take on just anyone. Then I had this dream just before you came along. The minute we set eyes on you, Sage and I knew you’d been sent.”

“Sent?” she faltered.

“Yup. You see, that no-account pa of Sage’s got off the booze a couple of years ago, got himself a good job and, I figure, a good woman like my daughter was. I asked a friend who lives down that way to find out who she is, and he says she’s got Miwok blood. That’s one of the California tribes. I don’t say that makes her perfect.” He grinned and added, “But I’m prejudiced.”

“I still don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“Look at it from Judge Rankin’s side. He might figure Sage should have a chance to be a part of two cultures and here she is living on a Paiute reservation when she could be living with her pa and a new stepmother who’s got some of the blood. Two cultures, right there. That’s where you come in. The judge looks at you and says, hey, two cultures right here on the res, why move the kid?”

Why you old schemer, she thought, annoyance mixed with amusement. You were planning to marry me off to Shane practically from the moment I walked in the door. And for all I know, even before. No wonder Sage asked if I was married.

“Did you put Shane up to asking me?” she demanded.

He shook his head. “I know better. I might have pointed out how well you and Sage got along, but you can’t push that stubborn one.”

“Well, he did ask me and I refused.”

“Figured you might.”

Laura blinked at him. “You didn’t think I’d agree?”

“Not till you had some time to think it over. I saw how you got on with Sage—you like her as much as she does you.”

“That’s true. But, still—marriage is another matter entirely.”

“Raised that boy. Never saw him break his word. You set the rules, and he’ll stick to ’em.”

She stared into Grandfather’s wise, dark eyes and decided to confide in him—up to a point. “I couldn’t possibly agree to marry any man. Not if he expected me to actually be his wife.”

“You think Shane’d have trouble with that?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“That’s your sticking point, is it? Easy enough to write it out and ask him to sign that he agrees. I’ll keep the paper safe. And you’d be safe, too.”

Laura bit her lip. Three days ago, she hadn’t met any of the Bearclaws. How could she even contemplate such an intimate involvement with Shane, signed agreement or not? And yet, there was Sage to consider. The girl’s future mattered a great deal to Laura. She’d never forgive herself if she turned away from this problem and something bad happened to Sage.

Somehow, too, she trusted Grandfather and believed what he’d told her about his grandson. “How long do you think we’d have to keep up the pretense?” she asked.

“According to what you wrote to us about what you’re doing with the mustangs, seems to me you’re going to be here in the West at least a year.”

Laura nodded. “My grant runs for one year, with the possibility of an extension if I find I need a few more months. But I won’t be in Nevada all that time. I have to check all the western herds.”

“A year sounds pretty good. Sage’ll be getting on for twelve by then.”

But still vulnerable, Laura thought. After a year, though, the girl’s father might well give up any further attempt to gain custody.

“It’s not like you’re yearning to marry someone else,” Grandfather added.

That was true. Even if Laura were gone, there’d be no need to hurry to end the arrangement unless Shane found a woman he could love. And she could always come back and visit Sage from time to time. She wished she could postpone a decision, but realized there wasn’t time to shilly-shally. She had to decide now.

“It scares me,” she confessed.

“Probably scares the stuffing out of Shane, too,” Grandfather countered. “Never saw a man so dead set on not marrying again.”

Maybe so, but women were more vulnerable than men in some ways. Could she trust a man she didn’t really know? On the other hand, Grandfather trusted him to keep his word, and he’d known Shane from birth.

“It would have to be a very private wedding,” she said.

Grandfather smiled at her, then reached for her hand and brought her palm to his chest. “Your words warm my heart,” he told her, releasing her hand.

She was touched by his gesture. At the same time she was shaken by the realization that she’d agreed to what seemed to her the wildest scheme in the world. Yet her main emotion was relief that the decision had been made, combined with the surprising sense that she was embarking on an adventure.

Laura shook her head, aware she was the least adventurous person she knew. In some ways, though, she found herself looking forward to this one.

Because of Sage, she assured herself. The girl needed her. Shane certainly didn’t, except for legal reasons, and she didn’t need him at all. Things really wouldn’t be any different between the two of them.

Grandfather rose from his chair. “You bring honor to the Bearclaws,” he told her before heading for the back door.

What a strange thing for him to say, though his words had pleased her. She rose and brought the glasses to the sink where she washed them and put them in the drainer. If she was going to live here, it was time to make herself useful. She began assembling the ingredients for the enchiladas, following the recipe Sage had left out for her.

Laura was sliding the chicken enchiladas into the oven when she heard the unmistakable click of Shane’s boots. She froze, made a face at herself, and went on with what she was doing, ignoring the panicked hammering of her heart.

When he entered the kitchen she was closing the oven door. Straightening, she blurted, “I told Grandfather we’d get married.”

He blinked. Had he changed his mind? Half of her hoped so, but the other, traitorous half waited to hear him say he hadn’t.

Shane tried to figure out what to say. Sure, he’d asked her because he couldn’t see any other way, but he’d been damn near positive she’d never agree.

“I warned him I expected a private ceremony,” she went on.

God knows he did, too. “No problem. Just Grandfather and Sage and the—” He paused. “Never got around to asking. Minister, priest, or justice of the peace?”

“I’d prefer a civil ceremony. A JP will be fine.”

He nodded. Seemed more appropriate for the kind of marriage they were heading into.

“Grandfather will keep the paper you sign,” she added.

“Paper?”

“Agreeing not to expect me to—well, we’ll have separate rooms and such.”

Shane watched her flush. He wanted to smile, but was aware he’d better not. “You can be sure I’ll never approach you in that way unless—” He paused, watching her as he finished, “—unless you want me to. Unless you decide to move into my bedroom.”

“Never!” She made a thrusting away motion with her hands at the same time as the word burst from her.

“I’ll sign the paper,” he said hastily, sorry to have provoked the distress he saw in her face.

What the hell were they doing, the two of them? Something neither wanted, that was for sure. But he’d do anything to keep Sage and, thankfully, Laura was already fond enough of his sister to agree.

It’d work out, he told himself. It’s the right thing to do. But, as he left the kitchen, he had the distinct feeling that old Coyote, the Trickster, was keeping an eye on the pair of them and laughing his head off.

Why shouldn’t he be? Getting attached to someone led to trouble. Love led straight to grief, as his first marriage had proved. If he wasn’t so fond of his sister, he’d never have gotten himself into this predicament. Here he was, not only having to marry a perfect stranger, but a woman he’d never choose if he really did want a wife.

Later, in bed for the night, he found himself thinking of Laura, sleeping down the hall from him in what would continue to be her bedroom after their marriage. He’d sign her damn paper and abide by what was written, no argument there, but it was beginning to occur to him that part of the deal wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d assumed.

It wasn’t as though he’d gone without a woman all these years—there were plenty of available women no more interested in marriage than he was. But once he married, it’d be all over the res if he played around. With his custody of Sage in the balance, he couldn’t afford to have that happen. No wonder the Trickster laughed—the joke was on Shane Bearclaw.

Laura might not be his type, but she was certainly an attractive woman in her quiet way—any man would agree with that. Yet he’d already given his word he wouldn’t touch her, without thinking that he’d be pretty well hobbled when it came to touching any other woman, either. He’d be looking forward to pure frustration.

Unless she changed her mind—he’d left that loophole. Chances of that seemed dim. Something about men—he didn’t think it was just him—spooked her. It came from her past, and she’d refused to discuss it with him. Which was her privilege. Except now, as he figured it, if she didn’t come around to telling him about whatever had happened, she’d remain spooked.

A shame a pretty woman like Laura was so hung up on her past that she couldn’t even contemplate making love with any man, even her about-to-be husband, without panicking.

A formidable challenge.

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