Dumont. Two syllables. Such a grand home should have a longer name. Elegance and strength merged in every detail from the broad, sweeping steps to the gables beneath a roof that flung a challenge to the heavens.
Winnie swiveled and studied Daniel, slouching in the saddle behind her, scanning the property with a restless gaze. They’d tarried by the stream long enough for him to wash away most of the dirt and blood while she tore a strip from her petticoat and bound the bullet wound. With the bruises and swelling, the tattered shirt, he still looked like nothing so much as a rag doll, frayed by years of a little girl’s devotion. But inside the worn moppet lived a man with a vague past and a heart a grown woman could love.
Her lips still burned with the memory of his kiss. Perhaps he’d steal another…though he couldn’t steal what she’d eagerly give.
Instead, he wrapped her closer, cradling her shoulders against his battered chest. His breath tickled her ear. “Matches what I recollect of Daisy’s description. Big, white house, like a plantation manor. Wraparound veranda. Eight columns on a side.” A wry tone sneaked into his voice. “I’m sure the funny-looking cattle are around here somewhere.”
When she giggled, he brushed her temple with his lips. Then, he slid from the horse on a strangled moan. Bunching her skirt in a clenched fist, he rested his forehead on her thigh. She combed his ragged hair with her fingertips until he raised his head and captured her with a gaze that lacked the usual devil-may-care sparkle.
“You stay up there.” He tossed a nod toward a whitewashed structure casting shadows in the fading daylight. “See those horses by the barn? They’re rigged for travel.”
Heads hanging low, the animals huddled as though propping one another upright. The occasional halfhearted flick slapped a tail against a dusty hide.
“Keep your eyes open. If there’s trouble, you take off out of here as fast as you can…and don’t look back.” He patted the holster slung around the saddle horn. “Colt’s right here.”
“And what, pray tell, am I supposed to do with a gun?”
“Just point and pull the trigger.” He grimaced around a swallow. “Worked for me.”
After one final long stare at the house, he wove his fingers through the horse’s bridle and led the animal from beneath a canopy of oaks.
As they neared the veranda, a woman heavy with child stepped to the edge. She glanced at Winnie, and then leveled a shotgun at Daniel. “What you want here, mister?” Neither the backwoods twang nor the plain gingham dress suited the mansion.
With no real sense of urgency, a dark-haired man nearly twice her height strode through the front door and stopped at her side. He lowered the gun’s double barrels with his palm as he slipped a protective arm around her waist. “Maggie, let’s find out what they want before we chase them off, shall we?” Neither the tailored trousers and shirt nor his cultured words suited the woman.
“Just bein’ cautious. By the looks of him, that feller there’s been up to no good.”
The gentleman chuckled before turning a startling blue gaze on Winnie. He nodded. “Ma’am.” Then, he fixed Daniel with a carefully neutral stare. “You look a little worse for wear. What can we do for you?”
Back straight, jaw level, as though he’d entered a ball wearing impeccable attire, Daniel returned the man’s gaze. “Is this Dumont?”
“It is. I’m Bennett Collier. And you are…?”
“Daniel. Daisy’s brother.”
****
A groan woke Daniel from a laudanum haze. Velvety cushions cradled the aching body he wished belonged to someone else. A down pillow lay beneath his head. Pure pleasure, after the cot in the jail.
He lost the battle to open his eyes, but he didn’t fight very hard. Until…
Where’s the angel? He scraped together enough strength to force a strained whisper. “Honey.”
A cool palm blessed his forehead, then his cheek, and then the bare skin at his collarbone. “I’m right here.”
He pried slits in his eyelids and dredged up a weak grin. “Miss me?”
“Yes, I did.” A soft smile lifted her lips. “You gave me quite a scare.”
A scare? He stumbled through groggy memories, at last tripping over one that made sense. Daisy—and Iris, too. His sisters’ enthusiasm must’ve hugged him right into unconsciousness. He’d best rise from…wherever he lay…so he could dodge the next assault.
Planting his forearms against the cushions, he pushed upward.
Every muscle in his body locked in a simultaneous spasm. His lungs threatened to burst around the gasp they couldn’t expel.
An arm behind his shoulders took his weight and laid him back against the pillow. “Easy there, Fonteneau.”
Fonteneau. The name hit Daniel’s ears like a gunshot. He blinked hard and fast to clear his vision.
A face filtered into focus. Close-cropped beard covered a square jaw. Sandy hair, linen shirt… “Who the hell are you?”