Free Capturing The Marshal's Heart (Escape From Texas) by Linda Carroll-Bradd Page A

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    He smiled, dipped his chin, and let his gaze take in the woman from head to toe. Damn, the dress she wore was all tucked in and buttoned up and had her looking as virtuous and pious as a Sunday school teacher. Where was that wanton beauty who’d filled his arms just hours ago? Could he stop himself from asking her that exact question?
    She took a few steps toward him, as if wanting to converse. What could he possibly say to explain his actions? He stood rooted to the spot and kept his head down, concentrating on the baggage. He wanted to assure her that he didn’t normally invade women’s bedrooms. But raising that subject could brew questions about why he had been there in the first place. He couldn’t afford to tip her off about being a robbery suspect in his investigation…or even that he was investigating. Or the fact that he wasn’t a rancher. Not before he knew for sure, before he found the needed proof.
    The scent of jasmine he’d forever link to Jazzy drifted to his nostrils, sparking simultaneous aches in his heart and points south. In that moment, he was sure he couldn’t preserve either of their reputations if he had to ride for hours within arm’s reach of her body. Each whiff of her perfume would remind him of every body part with that scent he’d kissed. The torment would drive him crazy!
    He needed time and room to think. “Hey, Pete, mind if I ride up top? I’d like seeing the countryside today.”
    From the corner of his eye, he spotted the snap of Jazzy’s honey-blonde head and thought he saw disappointment drop her mouth open. In an instant, she squared her shoulders and marched into the coach, skirts swishing behind her like an angry rattler.
    Not the hardest decision he’d ever made, but maybe the smartest. Without a doubt, the safest.

Chapter Six
    Slade’s snub hurt, but she wasn’t about to let him see that. Jazzy ducked her head and stepped up into the darkened stagecoach. After a quick glance at the other passengers, she flounced into the nearest corner.
    From outside, Pete called, “Hup!” to the horses and the coach lurched into motion.
    The jerky movement forced her forward and she grabbed onto the doorframe to keep from sliding off the seat. Being forced to ride facing backwards was one more thing she could heap on Slade’s shoulders. If she hadn’t dawdled over her breakfast hoping to catch a word with him, she would have had a better seat choice. With a yank, she straightened her skirts, wishing her rampant feelings were as easy to control.
    Jaw clamped tight with irritation, she muttered with each movement. “How dare he!” She ran a hand down the skirt front. “Just like all the others,” she groused, and tucked the puffy second petticoat under her saying, “With hardly a howdy-do.” With surreptitious movements, she checked for her precious stash of coins.
    “Excuse me, Miss Morgan. Are you speaking to me?”
    At the sound of Mrs. Harrington’s voice, Jazzy’s head snapped up, and she looked at the amused gazes turned her way. She forced her lips into a strained smile. “I’ve got a little ol’ bee in my bonnet, but nothing for y’all to worry about.”
    “Well, if it has anything to do with the state of last night’s accommodations, I’d have to agree.” Mrs. Harrington shook her head and lifted her nose even higher than usual in the air. “That was the lumpiest mattress I’ve slept on in years.”
    At the woman’s mention of a mattress, Jazzy’s thoughts flashed to the previous night. As mad as she was, she couldn’t stop from thinking of the fun and games that had taken place in her room. Or of her and Slade’s naked bodies moving over every square inch of her mattress. And the last thing she’d been paying attention to was if the mattress was lumpy or sagging or hard.
    “And the bed frame screeched like a banshee.” She sighed heavily, lifting a hand to push at a stray lock of hair. “I heard that horrible sound every time Miss