Castillo's Fiery Texas Rose Read Online Free PDF Page B

your good arm around me.”
    She did and leaned into him. “He is not my husband, you know.”
    Trace’s heart thudded against his chest. He braced her with his shoulder, and her arm crawled to his neck. He wasn’t her husband . A flicker of hope somehow found its way to his chest. He couldn’t think about it now. He had a job to do. Encircling her waist, he placed the other arm beneath her knees. “On the count of three. One…two…” He felt her hand gather the fullness of his shirt. “Three.” She came up into his arms with a startled cry and buried her head into his shoulder.
    “It’s almost over,” he murmured against her hair as he moved to his horse and lifted her to the saddle. “Swing your leg over.”
    He held her waist while she drew her leg clumsily over the horn. “Now hold on, while I get aboard.”
    He placed a hand on the pommel and one on the cantle behind her.
    “I don’t recall your name.”
    Trace paused and looked up. Her face seemed flushed and her eyes shimmered. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t stop his heart from turning over and plummeting to his boots. “My name is Trace Castillo. I’m a U.S. Marshal, at your service,” he replied, with a tilt of his head in a bow.
    “I’m Mary Rose Thornton,” she said. “And I’d like to go home.”
    She moved her leg forward and allowed him to get a better foothold in the stirrup as he swung on board.
    “Steady,” he called to his mount, letting him adjust to the weight of two upon his back. With his body behind her as support, she leaned against him, his arms encircling her waist as he took up the reins. Even with the smell of dried blood that remained, there was a sense of something special, something womanly about her that resonated with his soul. He swallowed as her rounded bottom snuggled against his groin. A woman who would want a man to lean on.
    The star he wore pinned upon his chest pressed against his skin. The words from his pledge, “to protect the citizens of Texas,” cut straight to his heart, giving his own personal creed deeper strength. For no one shot a woman on his watch and got away with it. After all, he was born a Texan, he had chosen to be a marshal, but he was first and always a man.
    ****
    The long ride neared its end. Trace eased his horse on down the broad dirt street of the town of Cobb’s Crossing. The lavender dusk of early twilight shrouded the buildings set back against the cottonwoods. He leaned forward and whispered into Mary Rose’s ear, “We’re here.” He looked at her cheek and watched her jaw work, but she was too exhausted to speak. Her only recourse was to nod.
    “Hang in there,” he whispered and took a tighter hold on her waist, drawing her close. Riding down the street, he could see lamps lit in the houses to chase away the gloom. Of all the times he needed someone, this time the street seemed empty. Halfway down, he caught sight of a few men loitering in front of the two-story hotel across from the general store. He pulled back on the reins and Diablo stopped. The men rose from their seats and came to the edge of the boardwalk.
    “Hey,” one of them shouted. “That the Thornton gal?”
    Trace turned his gaze toward them. “I’m in search of the doctor’s office. Can you tell me which way?”
    “Doc’s office is just across the street.” The man pointed. “On the other side of the general store.”
    Trace glanced in the indicated direction and saw a smaller building nestled to one side, painted white, with a picket fence. The windows were dark. “Is he in?”
    “Doc Martin’s probably over at Martha’s Café, gettin’ a bite to eat.”
    “Go get him,” Trace commanded.
    The second man stepped closer and peered at the woman. “Say, what happened?”
    Trace’s jaw clenched. They’d know soon enough, just not from him. “Sheriff?” he asked.
    “Eatin’ too, I ’spect.” The first man scratched his jaw. “Who might you be?”
    “I didn’t say.” He leveled a