Chapter One
1885
Montana Territory
The creak of the bedroom door had every muscle in Trace Edwardsâs body going hard, yet he didnât crack an eyelid. Didnât need to. He knew who it was, and the image of Annie Houltonâs honeycomb-colored hair, hanging down her back in a single braid, and perfect, luscious curves, which heâd made the mistake of sampling years ago, was burned into his mind as clearly as the brands on the thousands of cows roaming the countryside nearby. Her land. Her cows. Her brand.
Heâd been a part of that brandâthe Lazy Eâa long time ago. Now he was just here to solve a crime. Texas was where he belonged, not Montana. Not anymore.
She didnât make a sound, no click of heels on the floorboards, but she was moving closer. Floating across his room like a ghost coming to haunt him. Or a phantom coming to tempt him.
A swish, softer than a breeze blowing through the leaves of a single tree, echoed in his ears louder than a howling December gale forewarning a full-blown blizzard.
Thereâd been no way for him to prepare for this. Annabelle Houltonâno, it was Annabelle Edwardsâwas as tempting now as she had been all those years ago. More so in many ways as sheâd matured into the beauty heâd always expected her to become, but she was off-limits now, and that was what he couldnât quite grasp.
Trace shot up in bed and leveled his most menacing stare directly at her glistening blue eyesâwhich almost stole his breath.
It would be so easy to just fold back the covers, take her hand and guide her onto the bed beside him. Heâd always been able to read her like a book, and right now she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. To hold her just once more, to have her flesh molded against his, to experience the passion that had always exploded between them as it had that day next to the creekâthe day heâd dreamed of so many times over the years.
His entire being was tense, hot and battling fiercely against the piece of his mind insisting he couldnât take what she was so generously offering.
Not just couldnât. Wouldnât.
âGet out of here, Annie,â he snapped while he still had air in his lungs.
âTrace.â Her voice was like a warm knife, and he like melting butter. âIââ
âNo, Annie.â
Sheâd already removed her outer wrapperâthe one that had covered a nightgown thinner than cheesecloth and clinging to very specific parts of her body. His stomach muscles tightened and sweat popped out on the back of his neck. Memories hadnât done her justice, and his dreams...
âNo,â he repeated.
âTraceââ
âNo.â He jumped out of bedâthe other side of bedâand, thankful heâd listened to his inner sense and left his britches on, he moved straight to the door. There he grabbed the handle and made a point of holding the door wide open. âThis is the foremanâs house. You belong in the ranch house. Your house. My brotherâs house. You do remember him, donât you?â A burning sensation took over his throat as he growled, âYour husband? Roy?â
The room was dark except for a sliver of moonbeam, which bounced off her like sunshine, making her skin glisten and his insides ache. Heâd loved her beyond all else at one time and had feared seeing her again would bring everything back to the surface, but he didnât have a choice. This assignment was no different than numerous others that took him across the country chasing down cattle rustlers.
Yes, it was. This one included his brother.
Sheâd retrieved her outer wrapper off the floor, and she put it on and tugged it tight while crossing the room, chin up and glaring at him as if heâd just tried climbing into her bed instead of the other way around.
âIâll never forget Roy,â she said, âor what he did for me and Wyatt.â Maintaining the haughty attitude sheâd displayed since heâd arrived four days ago, she stopped directly in front of him. âItâs you who needs to remember Roy. The man he was. Few men, if any, were more honest, more dedicated, than him.â
She didnât so much as blink, which only made Trace notice the tears welling in her eyes as she continued, âHeâd never, ever have had anything to do with stolen cattle and you know it.â
Trace would have liked to believe that, if only so he could remember his brother fondly, but the evidence was thereâand it said otherwise. Besides, Roy had stolen her right out from beneath him. A herd of cattle seemed insignificant in comparison.