Pacing a circle in the center of his cell, Daniel pushed a breath through his teeth. Couldn’t the good citizens of Injun Creek have waited for him to commit a crime before fitting him for a hemp necktie?
A swipe of his fingers raked hair from his eyes. Shaggy as all-get-out. He scratched the line of his jaw. Damn scruff itched like hell. Rolling his shoulders sent a rivulet of sweat down his chest.
Reeking and ragged as he was, Daisy would have him shot for a wild animal.
The wedding will be at Dumont, near Galveston. Halverson had confiscated her letter, leaving him without directions to the “big, white house.” But she’d penned an indelible smile in his memory. Even without her elegant script, his heart would pick up her trail.
As soon as he broke free of this limestone oven. He peeled open the placket of his shirt and flapped the soggy edges to stir a breeze. No luck.
With a groan, he melted onto the cot, anchored one boot on the floor, and reclined onto the mattress’s peaks and pits. Rolling an imaginary coin back and forth across his knuckles, he stared at the ceiling and shifted puzzle pieces in his head. Halverson probably scared off Henry for good. The marshal didn’t let anyone else into the jail, so…
Yaps and yips sent his concentration flying. Hellfire and—
“Now, now. Let’s not tussle. There’s plenty for everyone.”
He would miss that honeyed voice when he left Injun Creek. The single glimpse of her pretty face, her luscious curves played over and over in his mind. Funny. He’d buried his dreams as a boy, but the angel dug up fantasies in the man. Golden tresses wound through his fingers. Montana blues heated his skin, and her sweet, sweet lips… His mouth watered. What he wouldn’t give for a single taste of honey.
Honey. He bolted upright. His gaze darted to the keys. Treachery would be poor payment for the angel’s unintentional kindness, but seduction always got him what he wanted.
Vinegar washed the sugar from his tongue. If there were any other way…
But there wasn’t…and this time, what he wanted was his life.
Chapter Five
“Montague, get down.” Winnie giggled through a grimace. “I appreciate you washing my face, but you should be eating instead.”
The spotted hound removed his paws from her shoulders, dropped to all fours, and shoved a frowzy terrier away from a bowl. The little dog, her fur gray with age, fixed Winnie with a woebegone stare.
Swiping slobber from her cheeks, she knelt and scratched the dowager behind the ears. “Montague is a bit of a bully, isn’t he, Miss Muffet?” She nudged the hound aside, and Miss Muffet dove back into her meal with unladylike gusto.
Warmth floated upward from Winnie’s heart, easing a smile onto her lips. What would she do without her four-legged children?
“Evening, Miss Honey.” The voice flowed down the alley like a velvet ribbon.
Montague raised his head and looked over his shoulder, then padded to the jail’s window. Tail waving “hello,” he whined a greeting as he reared up and planted forepaws on the wall.
“Good God, you’re a big dog.” Amusement loaded the prisoner’s tone. “You Montague or Miss Muffet?”
The hound yipped a response.
“Montague, come away from there, baby.”
For the first time in memory, he ignored her call. His wagging picked up speed.
Wonderful. Her alleged defender had been hoodwinked by a silver-tongued criminal. Her eyes narrowed. If that no-account thought he could bamboozle her dog… She set her jaw and went to retrieve the wayward beast.
Prying lion-sized paws from the wall proved something of a challenge. She poked the prisoner with a glare. “I’ll thank you to leave—”
“Montague, introduce me to the lady.” Above a grin peeking from scraggly whiskers, bold eyes captured her with a wink.
An odd stumble disturbed her pulse. She reinforced her pique. “He’ll do nothing of the sort.” She spun on her heel and patted her leg to encourage the dog to follow.
Three steps later, she realized she marched alone. She cast a look over her shoulder.
Montague sat staring at the prisoner, his tail’s side-to-side frenzy kicking up stinky dust.
Fists on hips, she stomped back to the window. “Montague, what has gotten into you?”
“He recognizes a kindred spirit.”
The only kinship the two shared was the need for a bath.
The reprobate curled a hand around a bar and tugged. “Ma’am, I can’t hurt you from in here. I just want to hear your sweet voice. I’ve always had a powerful fondness for honey.” He winked again.
The very nerve. She’d not be taken in by flirtatious words and…roguish twitches. She wrapped an arm around Montague’s neck. If necessary, she’d drag the creature back to the café steps.
Unless dragging failed, too. Despite her determination, the hound didn’t budge. On a huff of frustration, she encircled his scruff with both arms and redoubled her effort.