Nobody's Darling

As he inserted one into the lock, their cheerful jingle seemed to toll her doom.

She backed toward the farthest corner of the cell, chilled to the marrow. She was completely at the outlaw’s mercy. No one even knew that she’d come to this place to seek her brother’s murderer. No one except her grandfather.

And he didn’t care.

“Now, Mr. Darling,” she said, her words tumbling out in a nervous rush. “I can certainly understand why you might be just a little angry—”

“Furious.”

She swallowed, but only succeeded in wedging the lump of fear deeper in her throat. “Furious with me for—”

“Trying to shoot me down in cold blood,” he provided with an agreeable smile.

“Firing my derringer in your general direction,” she gently corrected. As he swung open the cell door, her gaze nicked to the gunbelt slung low on his lean hips. “But you left me little choice. Had you surrendered yourself to the sheriff as I requested—”

“Demanded.”

“Insisted,” she conceded. “Then the entire unpleasant incident might have very well been averted.”

“And it would be me behind those bars instead of you.”

She smiled brightly. “That would be the logical conclusion. You, after all, are the criminal.”

“Accusedjudged, and condemned by one lone woman.”

He sauntered toward her, but she was forced to stand her ground. There was nowhere left to retreat. “On that charge, I stand convicted. I had no right to take the law into my own hands.” She elevated her chin another notch, which barely brought it to the level of his breastbone. “But no one else seemed willing or able to do it.”

He shook his head. “I never heard of your brother, Miss Fine. And I sure as hell never killed him.”

His words rang with just enough conviction to give Esmerelda the first pang of doubt she’d suffered since leaving Boston. A doubt compounded by the bewildering flutter of her pulse at his approach.

He stopped near enough for her to divine the dark gold hue of his hair, the sun-burnished strands that brushed his shoulders, the tawny stubble shading his jaw. But his eyes continued their maddening shift between gray and green. He was taller than she’d realized, lean and lanky without an ounce of wasted fat on his broad-shouldered frame.

She held her breath as he reached out his hand. But instead of throttling her as she’d feared, he caressed a fallen curl from her cheek. His calloused thumb lingered against her smooth skin.

“Holler,” he said.

“Pardon?” she whispered, believing she’d misunderstood him.

“The sheriff promised to come running if you hollered. I think it might be a good idea.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “I may have swooned beneath the weight of extreme duress, sir, but surely you haven’t mistaken me for the hysterical sort of female who screams at the slightest provocation…”

His lashes swept down to mask his eyes as he lowered his lips toward hers.

Esmerelda screamed.

When Drew came skidding around the corner, he found Billy and Esmerelda on opposite sides of the cell. His prisoner stood rigidly in the corner, the knuckles of her demurely clasped hands white with tension, while her visitor lounged against the wall, hat in hand. Oddly enough, she was the one who looked flushed and guilty, while Billy was the very picture of wide-eyed innocence. Molasses probably wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

Drew scowled, instantly suspicious. “You look quite natural behind bars, William. Have you done something to make me leave you there?”

Billy shrugged. “Ask the lady.”

Drew deliberately gentled his voice as he addressed his prisoner. “I heard you scream, lass. Did Mr. Darling give you a fright?”

“I wasn’t screaming,” she replied, shooting Billy a defiant glance. “I was… singing.”

Puzzled, the sheriff rocked back on his heels. But having heard the lady sing, he had no choice but to believe her.

“I’m glad you happened by, sheriff,” Billy said. “Miss Fine and I were just discussing the penalty for assault with attempt to kill should I choose to press charges.”

Esmerelda gaped at him, amazed at the ease with which the scoundrel lied. Although he appeared to be giving all of his attention to shaping his hat brim between his long, sun-bronzed fingers, his eyes reflected a calculating glint that only deepened her apprehension.

The sheriff rubbed his clean-shaven jaw. “Well, all I can do is hold her until a U.S. marshal passes through town. Which could be weeks from now. Or months.”

“And if I don’t press charges?”

“Now, William, you know I can’t have some hotheaded female running around town shooting people every time the whim strikes her. I am sworn to provide law and order for Calamity.” Ignoring Esmerelda’s derisive snort, McGuire gave the waxed tip of his mustache a thoughtful tug. “However, I might just be persuaded—pending the receipt of the appropriate amount of bail money, of course—to release the lass into the custody of a responsible party.”

“How much?” Darling asked without a beat of hesitation.

“Fifteen dollars,” replied the sheriff. When Darling drew a wad of bills from his pocket, McGuire grinned and added, “In gold.”

Although his glare could have crumbled the remaining plaster from the ceiling, Darling drew a pouch from the opposite pocket and tossed it to the sheriff. “That should stake you for tonight’s game.”

McGuire caught it with one hand. “Much obliged, William. She’s all yours.”

Darling slapped his hat on his head. “Shall we go, Miss Fine? A jail is no place for a lady.”

Esmerelda had watched the entire exchange in dumb horror. When she finally recovered enough of her wits to do more than sputter in outrage, she marched out of the corner, her very petticoats rustling with indignation. “How dare you! I’m not a cask of whiskey or a sack of sugar to be bartered between the two of you.”

Billy raked a speculative glance from the tip of her kid boots to her unraveling topknot. “That’s one mighty tart sack of sugar.”

She whirled on McGuire. “And you dare to call this man a ‘responsible party’? He may or may not have killed my brother, but he’s still wanted for murder. He has a price on his head.”

McGuire waved off her concern. “Only until the U.S. marshals need him to hunt down another rifle runner or stage robber. Billy’s the best tracker in the Territory and they know it. As soon as they require his services, they’ll come crawling back on their knees with a sack of gold and a promise of amnesty.”

Esmerelda swept a disbelieving stare between the two men. There was obviously to be no reasoning with either of them. So she simply wheeled around and marched back to the bunk, sinking down on the yellowing mattress as if she intended to spend the remainder of eternity there. “I’d rather rot in jail than give myself over into the hands of that miscreant.”

“There’s no need for name-calling, ma’am,” Darling said. “If you’re not careful, you might bruise my tender feelings.”

She turned the full force of her scorn on him. “I sincerely doubt that a man of your character has any feelings.”

“You might just be surprised.” He spoke the words softly, but his gaze trapped and held hers in a velvety vise broken only by the sheriff’s heartfelt sigh.

“I have to respect the lady’s wishes. William. It wouldn’t look good to the townsfolk if I let you drag her out of here against her will.”

Darling shook his head ruefully as he turned to go. “I understand, sheriff. Let’s just hope that marshal gets here before my brothers do.“

Esmerelda bounded to her feet. “Your brothers? Why would your brothers come here?”

Billy turned back, but it was McGuire who replied. “Gossip spreads like prairie fire on the range, miss. The Darling boys probably won’t take very kindly to hearing about their brother’s narrow escape from death. They might just want to pay the lass responsible a wee social call.”