She stroked his cheek, smooth for the first time since he’d spoken to her through a cell door. “They’ll always need their big brother.”
Wrapping her fingers with his, he touched his lips to her palm. Like the starving dogs in the alley, the depths of his eyes held hesitant hope. “Will you?”
She had no words with which to answer, so she told him with her lips. He melted her with nothing more than his kiss—deep, seductive. At once hungry and tender.
When at last she drew away—Hours later? Days?—he winked. “I’ve always had a powerful fondness for—”
“Hello the house.”
****
The color drained from Honey’s face as though someone had tapped a barrel. Eyes frozen wide in a sightless stare, she covered her mouth with a trembling hand.
Fighting a groan, Daniel pushed up from the sofa and balanced on a forearm shoved into the cushions. He clasped her wrist, but he dared not pull too hard for fear of breaking the terrified statue. “Honey, what is it?”
A tiny voice whispered through her fingers. “That’s not Roy.”
“The man who hailed the house?”
She answered with a stiff nod.
Hooves—a lot of them—stomped, leather creaked, hardware rattled. Men muttered, coughed, and spat. Daniel strained his ears above his galloping heartbeat, but the voice he dreaded wasn’t part of the mix.
His supporting arm shook, sending waves of misery through his ribs. He could sit or lie down, but he couldn’t remain halfway between. Gripping the settee’s back, he dragged himself to her side, then eased her against him. She buried her face in his shoulder.
With a single set of boot steps, as though the two men were one, the Colliers rushed into the parlor and hurried to the window. Amon pulled aside the drapes and muttered a curse. “Ben, let me handle this.”
“Like hell I will.”
“We don’t need that kind of trouble.”
“Neither do they.”
On a huff of frustration, Amon ripped off his gun belt. He slapped the worn leather across a chair.
A familiar bark shot in through the open window. “Farrow.”
Swinging a too-composed gaze to Daniel, Ben delivered an order in a too-calm tone. “Stay out of sight.”
Like hell I will.
Chapter Twelve
The discussion on the veranda heated by the second. Any moment now, something would explode.
Most likely Halverson. Daniel needn’t have worried the marshal would run out of colorful language. He pushed up from the sofa.
Honey’s watery gaze bored into his. “You can’t—”
“I have to. If he has me as a target, maybe he won’t kill one of them.”
Tears flowed over her lashes. Hot and heavy, the drops burned into his soul. He claimed a too-brief taste of Honey and whispered against her lips. “Trust me.”
At the front door, he leaned against the jamb, digging for the dregs of his strength. Sitting their mounts at the foot of the sweeping steps, a phalanx of blue backed Halverson and an officer with pairs of golden bars on his coat. To a man, every head tipped back. Every gaze held the Colliers in check.
Daniel staggered onto the veranda. Amon caught him before he collapsed. He slung an arm across the Texan’s shoulders and hung on.
The marshal’s venomous glare targeted him right away. Daniel dredged up a smirk. “Always did fancy a crowd of folks looking up to me.”
Bland gaze locked with Ben’s, the officer spoke in a low, level voice. “You’re harboring a fugitive, Mr. Collier. He murdered two men.”
“I murdered hundreds of bluebellies, Dunleavy. How many graybacks did you kill?”
Poison dripped in Halverson’s words. “Where’s Mrs. Edmonds?”
Daniel clenched his jaw to halt a snicker. God, that hurt. “Don’t know. You check your unbreakable jail?”
Halverson tossed a yell at the door. “Winnie. The army’s here for protection, honey. Farrow can’t hold you hostage any longer.”
Stay inside, Honey. Please stay inside.
Dunleavy shifted in his saddle. “Collier, I suggest you hand over the prisoner and the marshal’s fiancée.”
With a flick of his wrist toward the distance, Ben matched the captain’s casual tone. “I suggest you and your men turn around and go.”
Glare growing ever harder, the marshal showed his teeth. “We’re not leaving without Mrs. Edmonds.”
Daniel’s snicker almost slipped its tether. “Then I guess we’re not leaving.”
Dunleavy tossed a command over his shoulder. “Place Mr. Farrow under arrest.”
“I wouldn’t.” One thunk sounded on the veranda’s whitewashed floorboards when Ben reset a boot. The corner of Daniel’s gaze glimpsed arms woven across the man’s chest. “Not if the Army wants Collier beef.”
“We’ll have it, with or without your permission.”
“I’ll slaughter every head on this ranch—”
“Ben.” Amon’s warning clipped Daniel as it passed.
Dunleavy raised his voice. “Sergeant, search the house.”
The Texan bit through a growl. “Step out of that saddle, and I swear to God I’ll burn Dumont to the ground.”
Amon stiffened. “Ben.”