Stolen Ecstasy

by Hannah Howell

Genres: Historical Fiction; Historical Romance; Western Romance

Synopsis

New York Times bestselling author Hannah Howell breathes life into the gunslinging Old West in this tale of a brave, adventurous woman and the dangerous outlaw that captures her heart.



In one night Leanne Summers has lost her home, her every possession, and learned that everything she's ever believed is a lie. So when she witnesses a bank robbery in progress, she doesn't think of the consequences. She steals a gun, barges in—and finds herself being held captive within minutes.



The moment Hunter Walsh locks eyes on Leanne, he knows he should leave her behind. The desire he feels for her is a distraction he doesn't need. But abandoning a brave, impulsive woman is turning out to be much harder than it should be. For even the most ruthless outlaw can’t ignore an irresistible temptation . . .



Contains mature themes.

Release date: January 28, 2011

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

Colorado, 1870

“I’M NOT YOUR MA.”

Hardly aware that she still lay sprawled in the dirt where her mother had pushed her, Leanne stared at Charity. “Not my mother?”

“Not your mother,” Charity said with every evidence of glee. “You little bitch.” Charity spat out the words. “Since you’ve been home, I’ve had to put up with your fancy ways, and I won’t any longer. I told Grant this wouldn’t work, told him years ago when he forced me to take you on. Wouldn’t even let me be your aunt, had to be your ma. Well, I’m not your ma. Never was. Not even your blood kin. Your ma was nothing but a cheap whore, and it’s clear blood will tell. Not even a month back home and you’re stealing my man.”

Clovis, standing behind Charity in the doorway, whined, “She tempted me sorely, Charity. I’m only a man, darling. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Shut up, you fool,” Charity snapped and Clovis disappeared into the house. She then went back to glaring at Leanne. “Well, that does it. I’m finished. He doesn’t pay me enough for this. You’re on your own, honey.”

“But, Mama . . .” she began, her voice shaking.

“Don’t call me that. I should’ve left you to rot at that school.”

Leanne almost said, ‘You did,’ but now was not the time to be airing grievances and old hurts. Even though she was facing yet another rejection in a life painfully filled with them, there was a more immediate concern.

“But who . . . where can I go?”

“Go to your pa—Grant Summers. And tell that bastard he owes me three months upkeep.”

“Grant Summers—who is he? And where is he?” Leanne demanded somewhat hysterically as Charity started to shut the door.

“Denver.”

“But that’s hundreds of miles away.”

Staring at the shut door, Leanne told herself it was all a nightmare, that she would wake up any moment back in her own bed—a bed without a sweating Clovis crawling all over her and telling her how good he was going to make her feel. Something fell at her side and she stared at her cloak. She looked up in time to see Clovis shoved away from the window just before Charity slammed it. She wondered dazedly if Clovis was going to suffer any punishment at all for what he had done.

A cool breeze made her shiver and she reached for her cloak. Standing up, she started to put it on, staring at the house she had thought was her home. A part of her waited for the woman she had always thought of as her mother to open the door and let her back in. It was not until the house grew dark that she finally gave up hope.

“I’m not your ma.”

The words echoed through her mind, making her wince. She found it impossible to believe. She had no memory of anyone except Charity. The woman had been cold, sarcastic and sometimes cruel, but she had been all the family Leanne had ever known, the only real tie she had ever had anywhere. She had formed none at school, where she had been viewed as a kind of barbarian, an uncivilized Westerner, no matter how hard she had tried to fit in. She had formed none in Clayville, where she had been viewed as an outsider because of her schooling and the long absences it had entailed. There had only been Charity, and now even that thin bond was cut.

“And who the blazes is Grant Summers anyhow?” she muttered and kicked at a stone, only to be painfully reminded that she was barefoot. “That is what I call adding insult to injury,” she groaned as she bent to rub her sore toes.

Suddenly, she was all too aware that she was standing in the streets of Clayville in her nightgown. The cloak was adequate cover, but knowing that a thin cotton nightgown, somewhat torn by Clovis’s rough hands, was all she wore beneath it was enough to cause her acute embarrassment. Glancing around she was both relieved and frightened to find the streets deserted. She realized how very late it was. That meant that probably no one had witnessed her being thrown out, but it also meant she would have even more difficulty in finding someone to help her.

There was always the sheriff, she mused, but she did not see how Martin could help her. Hers was a family problem, not a legal one. Leanne did not think there was any law against a parent throwing a child out into the street.

“I’m not your ma.”

Charity had certainly not acted much like any mother Leanne had ever heard of or met. Other mothers might be aloof, but none of them had had a succession of “gentlemen friends,” as Charity called them. Or if they did, they were far more discreet about it. Probably had more taste too, Leanne thought nastily as her anger began to rise.

Everything she owned, little as it was, was inside that house. She decided that was reason enough to go to the sheriff. It was robbery plain and simple. If the woman was going to thrust her out into the streets she could at least thrust out what belonged to her as well. With a final glare at the house, Leanne marched off to the sheriff.

By the time she saw the sheriff, she had pushed aside her hurt and confusion, replacing it with anger. She did not stop to wonder why the sheriff was lurking outside the bank. He looked horrified when she marched up to him. Leanne decided he was probably just shocked. She doubted he had seen many young ladies wandering around in the middle of the night half-dressed.

“Sheriff, I require your assistance.”

“Get out of here, Miss Summers,” he croaked. “Go on, get out of here.”

“I would,” she snapped, “if I had someplace to get out of here to. Is there something wrong?” she asked when she noticed how he kept looking in the window of the bank. “Is there supposed to be a light on in there?”

She glanced at him curiously when he groaned. He was shaking, and his eyes were the most restless she had ever seen. The sheriff’s gaze flickered nervously over the town, to her, to the inside of the bank and back to the town. She felt he ought to be concentrating on the bank, for Mr. Poitier never left a light on.

“I think you ought to look into this, Sheriff,” she said as she sidled up to the window.

“Please, go home, Miss Summers,” he said, a distinct tremor in his voice.

“I have no home to go to. That is what I came to speak to you about.”

Standing on her tiptoes she was just able to peer in the bank window. What she saw made her heart skip a beat. There were five masked men in the bank, and they were in the last stages of picking it clean. She looked at the sheriff, sure he must be aware of what was going on, but he just stood there staring at her.

“The bank is being robbed,” she hissed. “Aren’t you going to do something?”

“Please go home, Miss Summers,” he whined.

“I keep telling you, I have no home to go to. Well, if you are just going to stand there and cower, I shall do something.”

She yanked his gun out of his holster, and stared as he hissed a curse and raced off down the street. There was a chance he was going to get some other men and she wondered if she should just wait. Then she shook her head. The man had been acting so strangely, there was no depending on him. Although she did not know what she could do against five men, she decided she had to do something. She could not simply stand there and let them steal everything, nor could she run for help. There was no time left. From what she had seen, they were very nearly done.

Straightening her slender shoulders, she decided that surprise would be her best weapon. Throwing open the bank door, she marched inside and pointed the gun at them, hoping that they would not guess that she had little idea of how to use the weapon.

“Put down your weapons—now.” She was pleased with the iciness of her voice.

Even as they turned to gape at her, Leanne realized she had made a serious error in judgment. She had seen five men when she peered in the window, but now she saw only four. By the way the other men kept looking from her to some point beyond her, she had the sinking feeling that the fifth man was right behind her. Rushing in to stop the bank robbers could well be one of the rashest things she had done in all her eighteen years. She wondered when and how the fifth man would strike.

Tarrant Hunter Walsh stared dumbfounded at the tiny lady facing down his companions. She was so small, she had to hold the pistol in two hands, but she did not seem to waver in her militant stance. He found it hard to believe that something so unexpected could threaten to ruin months of work.

“If you do not come out where I can see you, I will shoot your friends.” Leanne hoped she had made that dire threat sound believable. “I shall count to five. One . . .”

Hunter wondered where Sheriff Martin had gone.

“Two . . .”

He wondered how such a slim, delicate neck could support all that rich blonde hair.

“Three . . .”

“Hell, Hunter, do something about the stupid bitch.”

“Four . . .”

Hunter wondered what Luke thought he could possibly do that would not end up with someone shot.

“Five.”

Leanne did not really think. She simply followed through. She had made her threat, she had finished counting, so she fired. The gunshot sounded very loud in her ears as she was sent careening backwards.

Cursing viciously, Hunter grabbed the young woman who stumbled into him. He cursed even more when he found himself in the midst of an undignified struggle for the pistol. When he finally wrestled her to the ground and took the pistol from her, he sat on her and wondered idly how such a delicate hand could have such a tenacious grip. He had not had so much trouble trying to snatch something from someone since he had tried to yank a sugar candy from his brother Owen when they were small boys. Ignoring her muffled cries, which sounded very much like curses, he looked at the other men, suddenly realizing that Jed was howling like a wounded bull.

“She done shot Jed in the foot,” Luke growled.

“I hit someone?” Leanne asked in surprise as she turned her head in a fruitless attempt to see something.

“What the hell do you expect when you shoot a gun?” Hunter snapped, glaring at her.

“Certainly not to end up with some jackass sitting on me.”

He ignored that. “We have to get out of here. That shot could have roused someone. Get the money on the horses.”

“You cannot take that.” Leanne found speech difficult in her current position. “The people here need that money.”

“Ain’t that a shame.” Luke threw her a glare as he hurried by her.

She gave a squeak of surprise as the man on her stood up then yanked her to her feet. Although she listened closely, she could hear no outcry and feared that the town was going to sleep blissfully through its own ruin. Thinking of the people who needed that money for food and mortgages and livestock, she glared at the man who was keeping her from fleeing and rousing the townspeople herself.

“Why don’t you go out and earn money like decent folks do? You’re all strong and healthy.”

“I used to be ’til some stupid bitch shot my foot clean off,” growled Jed as Tom helped him out to the horses.

“We’re smarter’n them sodbusters,” Luke said as he came back in and collected the last of the money. “What do we do with her?”

Hunter knew only one answer and hated it. “We take her with us.”

“What for?” demanded Leanne.

“You know too much.”

“All I know is that five masked bits of refuse from the gutter are taking what doesn’t belong to them.”

After glaring at her, Luke said, “She’s right. She doesn’t know anything.”

“She might not see it yet, but she knows and it’ll only take a few smart questions to bring it out. She’s coming.”

Tom stuck his head back inside the door. “Someone’s seen us.”

Leanne tried to drag her feet as her captor towed her out the door. Her lack of weight made her delaying tactics futile. He was still dragging her along at a near trot.

Her eyes widened when they got outside. The whole town seemed to be spilling out into the streets. Leanne saw the sheriff, as well as Charity and Clovis. She also saw rescue.

“Help me,” she called, trying to pull free of her captor’s grip before he could get her onto a horse.

“There she is. She stole my gun,” the sheriff cried as he pointed an accusing finger at Leanne. “She sidled up to me all sweet and helpless, then turned on me. I was lucky to get away with my life.”

Something told her the man who held her was as surprised as she was by the sheriffs accusation, for his grip on her lessened enough for her to pull free. She took a few steps toward the suspicious, angry crowd. A part of her was aware that the thieves were not standing around waiting to see how this confrontation came out. They saw an angry, armed crowd and were running for their lives. She had a sudden urge to tell them they need not worry about those guns. There was no one in town who could hit the broad side of a barn, but it was a fact quickly revealed when a few people shot at the fleeing men. She had the unsettling feeling that she should have gone with them.

“That’s a bald-faced lie,” she snapped. “You were just standing there cowering, Sheriff. I took your gun to try to stop those bandits taking what little this town has.” She did not like the way the crowd kept advancing on her.

“You expect us to believe a mite like you was thinking of taking on five outlaws?” growled one man in disbelief.

“Pull the other leg,” mumbled another angry voice.

“You was helping them and they left you holding the bag.”

“Ain’t no honor amongst thieves.”

“Wait a minute,” she cried as she was grabbed by two men in nightshirts. “Mama!”

Charity held a fine lace handkerchief up to her face, tears glistening in her eyes as she followed the man dragging Leanne toward the jail. “I should have suspected something like this,” she wailed. “I should have seen it. She’s always been so wild. When I found she’ d snuck out tonight . . .”

“Snuck out?” Leanne squawked in outrage and nearly tripped as she was yanked up onto the boarded walk before the jail.

“I thought she’d gone to see a man,” Charity continued as if she had not been interrupted. “Young hearts can be foolish. Never did I suspect that she was meaning to rob us blind. I have clasped an adder to my bosom.”

“How the hell would you know that?” Leanne snarled as she was thrust into a cell and the doors clanged shut. “You’d never notice a mere adder with all the rest of the snakes you’ve clasped to your bosom over the years.”

There was a collective gasp of outrage from the gathered townspeople. Leanne glared at them all. They all knew that the men who boarded at Charity’s house did not pay for an empty bed. She supposed it was simply shocking because she, a desperado, had given voice to the truth. Neither would they appreciate someone they had always considered an outsider slandering one of their own. Although she knew it would help her cause not at all, she looked at them with contempt.

“And while you hypocrites are standing here priding yourselves on catching one tiny, unarmed female, your money is disappearing into the hills.”

She turned her back on them, went over to the cot, and sat down. A great deal of muttering was followed by the sound of people shuffling out of the jailhouse. Wrapping her cloak around herself, she lay down.

Disbelief warred with despair. She simply could not believe all that had happened to her. No one could possibly have so much go so completely wrong in so short a time. It had to be impossible. It had to be a nightmare.

She pinched herself then cursed at the very real pain that assailed her. For a moment she fought the crushing weight of deep despair. She was not sure there was any way to get out of the predicament she found herself in.

Why had Charity helped to put Leanne into jail? It seemed to be an excessively spiteful act. Clearly Charity still thought that Leanne had lured Clovis into her bed. There would be no convincing Charity that Leanne would never want anything to do with such a poor speciman of humanity.

Or perhaps Charity hoped to hide all that had really happened, Leanne mused. It must have occurred to Charity that some awkward questions would be raised when people noticed that her daughter was suddenly gone. After all, she was now a little too old to be exiled to school. Charity’s accusation took care of the loose ends very neatly. People would now sympathize with Charity over a child gone bad. Since so few townspeople had taken the time to get to know Leanne, it was a story that would never be questioned.

Leanne suddenly realized that she was completely alone. She had no one to turn to, no one to help or defend her. The woman she had always thought of as her mother was not her mother. Somewhere, previously unbeknownst to her, she had a father, but he had handed her to Charity and never looked back, simply paying Charity to keep her. Leanne doubted the man would be delighted to hear from her now. No, she thought as she gave up the fight to hold back her tears, he would consider her a burden well shed.

She wallowed in misery for a while, feeling extremely sorry for herself. Even reminding herself that she had one good friend who would come to her aid did not raise her spirits. There was no way to get in touch with him. O’Malley was either secluded in his hunting cabin in the San Juan Mountains or home at his ranch, wherever that was.

A soft sound brought her out of her misery a little. Her ears told her it was the cell door being unlocked. Slowly she turned towards the door, then tensed.

Sheriff Martin’s thin frame was silhouetted by the light outside the cell. His pale hazel eyes were fixed steadily upon her and there was a look in them that caused her to shiver with distaste and fear. She knew she would soon be fighting him just as she had fought Clovis.

Sitting up slowly, she glared at him, putting all her sudden hatred of the male species into that look. He faltered briefly and she branded him a coward in her mind. Most any male would find such a tiny woman easy pickings. She had made the mistake of thinking that the low-life who would try to force her was a rare breed and easily avoided. It was now becoming clear that they were as common as cockroaches.

“Remove yourself,” she commanded and a strange imp inside of her almost laughed when he started to obey.

“You haughty bitch,” he snapped, angered by his reaction to her imperious manner.

“Swamp slime.”

If he wanted to trade insults, he had picked the wrong partner, she mused. There was nothing he could say that she could not match or better. She knew it was not a skill to be particularly proud of, but, when one was barely five feet tall and only one hundred pounds, one’s choice of weapons was severely limited. It was a talent that also aided her in hiding her fear, and her dear friend O’Malley had always told her that that was important.

“You nearly ruined everything.” Glaring at her, he cautiously approached her.

Understanding dawned quickly and Leanne nearly gaped. The sheriff had not simply been too afraid to face the outlaws, he had been part of the robbery. He had obviously been standing watch for them when she had sauntered up to him.

You really stumbled into it this time, Leanne, she told herself. She could not even count on the law to help her now. The law was Sheriff Martin and he, more than anyone, needed a scapegoat. Even if she could find some evidence to clear herself, he would swiftly eradicate or suppress it.

“I see,” she murmured and looked at him with contempt hardening her usually soft lavender eyes. “Such a brave man you are, letting a small, innocent female shoulder the blame for your abuse of the town’s trust.”

He flushed with anger. “I told you to go home. You were too stupid to listen. You got what you deserved.”

She leapt off the cot and sprinted out of reach as he lunged for her. Her dash for the open cell door was halted when he tripped her up by the crude but effective tactic of grabbing her cloak and yanking. He lunged for her again, but she rolled out of the way. Scrambling to her feet, she readied herself for his next move.

“This will hardly enhance your reputation, Sheriff.”

“And just who are you going to tell?” He smirked as he stalked her. “And who’d care? Or believe you?”

That struck home. The very fact that she was in jail showed that no one really cared. They certainly did not believe her.

“I would think that a crime as monstrous as the one you plan would be visible. I’ll fight you every inch of the way. I suggest you leave me, Sheriff, before you do something you will sorely regret.”

“Just listen to you,” he hissed. “You think you’re some kind of princess, don’t you? Been off to a fine Eastern school and think you’re better’n us. Well, you ain’t, darlin’, not for all your highfalutin ways. When I’m done with you, you won’t be holding that little nose up so high.”

Even as she searched for some kind of weapon to use against the man stalking her, Leanne wondered if his words explained why the whole town was against her. They thought she held herself above them, looked down on them. If they did, Leanne could think of nothing she had done to make them feel that way. She knew in her heart that she did not act like a snob. Though she could become aloof when she faced animosity, she knew she had tried very hard to be friendly.

He sprang at her again. And this time, her evasive move was foiled by her long hair. She cried out when he grasped it and yanked her towards him. The pain in her scalp brought tears to her eyes. For a moment it was hard to see her assailant well enough to strike at him as he wrestled her to the floor of the cell.

She felt bile sting her throat as he mauled her, his hands inflicting pain and revulsion as he tried to get to her flesh. She cried out as the front of her nightgown tore. By sheer willpower, she stopped herself from being violently ill when his mouth roughly assaulted her bared breast.

“You’re going to give me what you’ve been giving Clovis,” he growled as he struggled to pin down her hands.

“I gave Clovis nothing.”

“That ain’t what he’s been saying. Tight and hungry, he said,” the sheriff panted. “Always wanting it. Said he was wearing himself out trying to service you and your ma both.”

“Clovis is a filthy liar. He snuck into my bed tonight while I was sleeping.”

She was frustrated in her attempts to use her long nails on his face. When he shifted position a little to push up her nightgown she found another tactic to use. She had tried to use it on Clovis, but he had guessed what she was up to. Now she knew she would have to be more subtle.

Forcing herself to ignore the man yanking up her nightgown, she concentrated on moving her leg into the right position to strike. O’Malley had told her it was a man’s weak point, that if she was in trouble she should strike there and strike hard. As soon as her leg was properly placed, she did just that, ramming her knee into the sheriff’s groin with all the power she could put behind the blow. The man above her screamed and she found herself released.

Scrambling to her feet, she stared at the writhing, swearing sheriff in some surprise. She cursed softly when she saw that his twisting body was between her and the open cell door. Cautiously she started by him but he lashed out with his hand and nearly grabbed hold of her ankle. She danced back out of his reach. To her dismay, he got to his feet, ready to renew the attack despite his pain.

A chill went down her spine as she faced the slightly crouched man. She was shocked to see that his pants were half undone. She also saw that, while lust still glinted in his eyes, so did fury. She knew he would do his best to make it hurt now.

“You filthy bitch. You’ve probably ruined me.”

“Unfortunately, I doubt it, but I will if you come any nearer. Perhaps not before you rape me, but sooner or later. It will be my life’s work to see that you lose what you abuse women with.” She smiled coldly when he hesitated in his advance, checked by her icy threat.

The only thing in reach was the slops bucket. As she reached for it, never taking her gaze from the sheriff, she decided it would have to suffice as a weapon. Even as he charged her, she grabbed the bucket and hurled the contents over him. He screamed in horror as the last prisoner’s waste landed all over him. It did not stop him, however, only enraging him so that Leanne had to swing the bucket itself at him. It made a satisfying clang as it struck him. She continued to beat him with the bucket until she had driven him into the corner of the cell. Once he was no longer between her and the open cell door she threw the bucket at him and ran.

She could hear him swearing and stumbling after her as she darted out of the jail. She glanced behind her to see how close he was and ran into what felt like a brick wall. Strong hands grasped her by the shoulders and she stared dazedly up into the masked face of the bank robber called Hunter.

HUNTER STARED DOWN AT THE GIRL. HUGE lavender eyes bright with fear stared back at him. His gaze flickered over her body and stopped at the sight of one bared breast. He felt as if someone had just hit him full in the stomach—hard. It was a small breast; its ivory fullness would probably snuggle just nicely in the palm of his hand. The pink tip hardened in the cool night air and he felt his mouth water. He even started to bend towards it when he heard Martin’s stumbling approach. Immediately brought to his senses, he tugged the girl behind him and drew his pistol, even as Martin came out of the jail.

“What the hell are you doing here, Hunter? Give me that bitch.”

“No. I’m taking her with me.”

“Not until I’m done with her.”

The sheriff took a step toward him. Hunter grimaced and took a step back. The girl, pressed to his back, matched his retreating step.

“You stink, Martin.”

“That whore threw the shit bucket at me.”

Although he never ceased to watch for any sign of danger, Hunter waited as the sheriff staggered to the horse trough and pumped water over hims. . .