Wed To The Texas Outlaw
A bride to redeem an outlaw!The only way Boone Walker can escape jail is by capturing the fearsome King brothers. But to do that he needs Melinda Winston’s help – and that means making her his wife!After being valued only for her beauty, Melinda is delighted to find a man who sees her for who she truly is. Even as their mission leads them into ever greater danger Boone proves to be courageous and honourable beyond measure, and Melinda determines to show her outlaw husband that he is worthy of redemption…
Читать Wed To The Texas Outlaw онлайн беплатно
She arched a delicately shaped brow.
âI am the woman who has a signed certificate of marriage. Iâm also addressed as Mrs. Walker. I am the woman who has shared the loft with you, whose bosom you have slept upon.â She curled up her fists and pressed them against his chest. âThat makes you my husband.â
âNot the one you deserve. Iâmââ
âMine.â
âNo.â
But he was hers. Whether he ought to be or not didnât change the reality.
Oh, hell. He cupped her cheeks in his hands then came down upon her lips, kissing them hard.
Do you love stories of redemption? They are among my favourites.
To see our heroes and heroines face their demons and come out the better for it is deeply satisfying. To see them turn from an ugly past to walk in the light of love is at the heart and soul of courage.
In Wed to the Texas Outlaw Boone Walker must fight ruthless criminals. But none of them is more difficult to conquer than the guilt he harbours over his own past. His road to redemption might be a darkly troubled one were it not for Melinda Winston, walking beside him, lighting his path with her unshakeable trust. I hope you enjoy this story of darkness to light, of desperation to joy and new beginnings.
May the spirited Melinda Winston charm you. May the outlaw Boone Walker steal your heart.
CAROL ARENS delights in tossing fictional characters into hot water, watching them steam, and then giving them a happily-ever-after. When sheâs not writing she enjoys spending time with her family, beach-camping or lounging about a mountain cabin. At home, she enjoys playing with her grandchildren and gardening. During rare spare moments you will find her snuggled up with a good book.
Carol enjoys hearing from readers at [email protected] or on Facebook.
In loving memory of Jim Reed, who never left home without his pocket full of dog treats. Brother, we will always remember you as a best friend to manâs best friend.
Contents
Buffalo Bend, Texas, October, 1883
In the courthouse of the Honorable Harlan J. Mathers, located at the rear of the Golden Buffalo Saloon
âMr. Walker, do I have at least your partial attention?â
The edge of impatience in the judgeâs voice snapped Boone Walker back to the here and now. He shifted his gaze from the woman seated beside his lawyer to the matter at hand.
âBeg pardon, Your Honor.â From his seat on the elevated defendantâs chair, Boone tried to direct his full attention to the proceedings but it wasnât easy with the piano player on the other side of the thin wall practicing the tunes he, no doubt, intended to perform this evening.
To Booneâs mind it sounded jarring and cheap. Even though heâd lived a tawdry life on the run from the law, he didnât care for the irritating sound.
âKeep in mind that we are determining your future,â the judge declared, glaring at him from under bushy gray brows. âThe decisions made here might grant you your freedom.â
He doubted that. Even if Judge Mathers personally handed him the keys to his prison cell, he couldnât imagine that he would ever really be free.
Public opinion had branded him an outlaw and that stigma would follow him forever; a dirty shadow that the brightest day would not diminish.
A gust of October wind blew a hail of yellow and red leaves past the courthouse window. Public opinion or not, he wouldnât mind having these cuffs off his wrists so that he could gather a pile of autumnâs glory, toss it up and watch the leaves fly where they might and land where they pleased.
In spite of the judgeâs admonition, his attention returned to the woman. The public at large had not been admitted to this hearing. Other than a few curious faces peeking through the dust-smeared window, there was only him, an armed guard, his tenderfoot lawyer and the lady.
And she was clearly a lady, as pretty as they came. She leaned forward in her chair, watching intently while Stanley Smythe paced and presented his case. Her eyes crinkled in concentration, a fine line creased her forehead nearly to her hairline. But it was the slight parting of her lips that intrigued him and kept his attention returning to her when it should be on the outcome of these proceedings.
Why was she here? He was certain he didnât know her. The women he had been acquainted with his whole life had not been ladiesâbeginning with the wife of the man he had shot all those years ago.
âLet me present to you a boy, Your Honor.â His lawyer, Stanley Smythe, swept his arm dramatically toward Boone. The little man stood as proudly as his five-foot-and-about-three-inch frame would allow. âImagine, if you will, the boy Boone Lantree used to be before he crossed paths with a certain kind of woman. What chance did he have against that cunning taker of innocence? A scarlet woman to the core? And she, along with a vagrant known to be intoxicated at the time, the only witnesses to the presumed crime, other than the defendantâs brother.â
