The Rancher Takes A Bride (The Burnett Brides Book 1)

Travis hadn't heard repeated about other women, but somehow he didn't like the words his brother had chosen. Even more, Travis didn't like his own reaction.
    The marshal gazed at him. He blinked his eyes and shook his head, a surprised expression on his face. "So that's the way it is."
    "What do you mean?" Travis asked, hearing the defensiveness in his own voice.
    Tucker laughed. "You've taken a fancy to this woman, haven't you?"
    "Of course not, she's a thief."
    "I'd wager she wasn't the most honest of women. But she's a hell of a looker."
    Travis jumped up and began to pace, his boots rapping against the wooden floor. "I have to admit she's a handful. And I can hardly keep my hands off her." He threw up his arms, exasperated. "Mother put her across the hall from me. She's sleeping within ten feet."
    "I've never seen you this rattled over a woman before," Tucker commented. "What's really bothering you, Travis?"
    "I don't know. I guess I always thought that when a woman I was attracted to came along, she'd be— you know—an honest woman. Not some con artist who runs a séance scam."
    "What do you really know about Miss Severin? Has she told you about her past or what her life was like before she got to Fort Worth?" Tucker questioned.
    "No, all we've done is argue over every little thing. She's certainly a challenge. She's a saucy little thing that has me either fuming or laughing. I never know which one to expect."
    As if realizing he'd said more than he intended, Travis sat back down in the chair. Silence filled the office. Finally, he sighed. "What am I going to do with her?"
    "Why don't you hire a Pinkerton agent to get the real information on her? That way you'll know the truth and you keep her at the ranch, which makes Mother happy." The marshal smiled. "What happens between the two of you—well, that's up to you."
    Travis frowned. "A Pinkerton agent?" He thought for a moment. "I could find out everything in her background. How many times she's stolen and where she comes from."
    "It would buy you some time. You could use that same gentleman Mother used when she searched for Tanner. He was quick and affordable."
    Travis thought for a moment. "You know, that's not a bad idea."
    "His office is right up the street. Come on, let's drop in and pay him a visit on the way to grab a bite for lunch."
    Travis picked up his hat and shoved it on his head.
    "Miss Desirée Severin, voice of the dead, is about to be revealed."
    ***
    After spending most of the day in town, Travis headed for home content with the things he had accomplished. After their meeting, the Pinkerton agent had agreed to check into Desirée's past and locate as much information as possible in the shortest amount of time. Travis didn't have weeks—in fact it was more like days—before he'd be forced to either let her go or carry out his threat of imprisonment.
    Sooner or later she'd call his bluff and force his hand.
    After he'd left the Pinkerton man, he'd gone over to the stage and checked on Desirée's luggage. With the two women joining forces against him, it'd been hard to walk out this morning and not take them to town. In fact, it was all he could do to keep from running out the dining room door. Sometimes it was better to retreat than admit defeat.
    If the truth were known, he'd even missed them today. A fact he'd never admit to under penalty of death.
    But off and on during the day, the image of Desirée had slipped through the conscious barriers he'd tried to erect. Memories of her sitting across the table at breakfast looking beautiful, the way she'd sparred with him, defending her position, the sight of her last night standing expectantly outside his bedroom door, the feel of her luscious curves pressed against him, had snuck past his guard. All these memories were more than he'd shared with any woman he'd ever courted.
    She was maddening, beautiful, and heated his blood quicker than any flame he'd ever started. And if the truth were told, he admired her spunk, her courage, and the way she stood up to him. She was definitely not the mousy, quiet type and somehow he was beginning to get a nagging suspicion about why his mother had never liked any of the women he'd introduced her to before.
    But Desirée kept him on edge. If she hadn't stepped out of his embrace last night, he didn't know if he could have ended it. And her questions had left him anxious.
    As he turned his horse up the lane to the house, he couldn't help but wonder what she