Her Forbidden Gunslinger

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Authors: Harper St. George
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idea what he was asking or wanting from her. She could not accept what he was telling her, could not accept that he was ready to move on. Each time they had made love it had been more achingly tender than the last.
    As reality came crashing down, she realized the possible consequences of their night and her hand instinctively went to her belly.
    “Don’t worry,” he quickly reassured her, correctly interpreting her action. “I never spilled my seed in you.”
    She jerked as if he had slapped her, as if by denying her his seed he had committed some grievous transgression against her. Logically, she knew it was a good thing and she should be thankful. But it hurt to know that he had held himself back from her.
    His hands were on her shoulders. “Sophie, don’t be mad. I would change things if I could.”
    What he meant by that statement she didn’t know or care to take the time to figure out. She whirled away from him and quickly settled the veiled hat on her head. The room had become stifling and she needed to get away from him. She fled down the stairs and blindly made her way back to the dress shop. She knew he shadowed her by only a few steps but she did her best not to look at him. Anton Beaudin was her future and she cursed herself every kind of fool for forgetting it even for a moment.
    * * *
    Only the strength of his iron will kept Gray from pulling Sophie to him and refusing to let her go. He wanted her in his life, he realized as he watched her walk out. Hell, he’d acknowledged that from the moment he’d watched her come apart in his arms. Being with her had given him a sense of redemption, of life, of what it would be to love and have a future. What it meant to be accepted. No one had ever looked at him with the love and acceptance she had shown him. But he had a job to do and that had to come first, because if he didn’t put it first they would have no chance at all.
    Would she hate him once she knew?

Chapter Seven
    Sophie closed her eyes and held her face up to the cool wind that blew in from across the valley, doing her best to settle her nerves for the drop that was ahead of her. She perched on her knees by the open window of her bedroom and slowly opened her eyes to look down. Her bedroom faced the back of the house and the roof of the sunroom was just below. It was only a short drop down and then another to the ground. The tricky part would come when she attempted to purchase a ticket for the stagecoach. She’d already determined the schedule from an ad in the newspaper. It was leaving in the morning at six o’clock—too early for her absence to be noted. Her anxious gaze looked out in the distance, knowing that the train tracks were somewhere out there. Taking the train would be infinitely faster if only she had the funds.
    But she didn’t, so she pushed the longing from her mind. If only her longing for Gray and the life they would never have together could be so easily pushed away. There were no tears left after the first day, not that those had served her any purpose, anyway. The ache that had lodged itself firmly in her chest was still present and she feared it wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. She was doomed to lose him.
    She wanted to hate him, and there were times she almost succeeded. He had taken her virtue—well, had it foisted upon him—and coldly brushed her aside in no uncertain terms. Only he hadn’t done it coldly. She could still remember the pain in his voice when he had touched her, pleaded with her, just before she had stormed from his room. He hadn’t wanted to part with her. She was sure of it. He did feel
something
for her. But he had never promised her anything more. He’d never lied to her about that, she would give him that. It was her own foolishness that had dreamed something more could come from their one night together.
    Was it his fault that he was at Jean’s mercy just like everyone else? No, her reason screamed at her, but her heart felt betrayed. Why

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