Capturing The Marshal's Heart (Escape From Texas) Read Online Free PDF Page A

him feel as tightly wound as a new spring.
    A rustling of fabric from behind brought his attention to the remaining women. He turned to offer a hand to Miss Whitfield, but Mr. Denton must have assisted the ladies.
    “Slade?” Pete’s voice came from atop the wagon. “Help hand down these bags, will ya?”
    Within moments, the passengers’ bags sat on the boardwalk and Pete stood staring at the imposing pile. “Do you suppose Mrs. Harrington is expecting me to haul her bags up to Ella’s right away?”
    Slade thumbed back his hat and ran a hand over his jaw. The rasp of beard stubble reminded him of a promise he’d made to himself. “I’ll carry them. This town got a good bathhouse?”
    Pete jabbed him in the ribs and gave him a broad wink. “Gonna get gussied up and visit The Lucky Strike?” He jerked his head up the street.
    Slade eyed a saloon two buildings along the boardwalk with tinny piano noise and raucous laughter coming from its doorway. For a few moments, he thought of wetting his parched throat with a tangy beer or two but shook his head. “Just lookin’ to soak my aching muscles.”
    “Soak?” Jessimay turned from where she had bent over the pile of bags and satchels, her eyes wide. “As in a hot bath? I would pay a pretty penny for a long bath with lots of steamy water”—she sighed—“and maybe some rose petals floating on the top.”
    In his mind, Slade pictured the scene. He saw her slender form approach the steaming bathtub. In a graceful move, she shrugged her shoulders and a silky garment dropped to her feet, exposing creamy, smooth skin. Skin that his hands itched to touch. He wasn’t halfway done looking his fill, but her luscious body slowly disappeared under the bubbly water. The images he’d conjured heated his blood. His stomach clenched and his hands drew into fists.
    Weeks had passed without him acknowledging his need for a woman. Trailing the bank robber had occupied all his thoughts. Now, lush curves and creamy skin were all he could think of. What was it about this particular woman that unsettled him?
    Action. He needed physical activity. Plus, he needed to put distance between himself and the woman who stood three feet away. Slade hefted all the unclaimed bags into his arms. “I’ll be taking these now. See ya in the morning, Pete.” He dipped his chin in her direction, but didn’t trust himself to look her in the eye. “Miss Morgan.” With that he started off, cursing himself as the biggest fool this side of the Mississippi.
    “Ah, Mr. Thomas?”
    Slade tensed. Had she figured out what he’d been thinking? Not trusting his voice, he glanced over his shoulder and raised a questioning eyebrow.
    Her gaze darted from the boardwalk to the street and back, as the smile on her pink lips flashed, then disappeared. “Would you mind escortin’ me? I’m a bit overwhelmed by crowds.”
    Crowds? Slade glanced around and counted no more than twenty people in sight. Was she actually nervous? The bold and defiant Miss Jessimay Morgan? More likely, this was another ploy by an accomplished con artist. For purely investigative reasons, he nodded and moved to the outside of the boardwalk. Her hand gripped the inside of his elbow and held tight.
    He gritted his teeth against the instant heat her touch caused, shifted the bags in his arms, and walked toward the boarding house.
    “I do appreciate this favor.”
    With precision, he forced out a polite reply. “Of course, ma’am.” Damn, he sounded like a schoolboy answering a teacher.
    They paused to allow a harried woman with a small child anchored to each hand cross in front of them to enter the mercantile.
    A few more feet along the boardwalk, Jessimay leaned close and whispered, “And I wanted to explain about my earlier behavior.”
    The exact subject he preferred not to have mentioned again. At least, not within earshot of polite company. “No need. It’s forgotten.”
    “Well, isn’t that sad.”
    At her words, he