The Lawman Claims His Bride

“Yes, Megan.” He forced his words around the breath clogging in his throat. “I’ve come for you, just like I promised.”

But had he returned too late?

Chapter Two

After two endless seconds Megan finally jumped up and hurried across the cell toward Logan.

Hungry for this closer view, he clutched at the bars and strained forward. Just like it had five years ago, her beauty made his throat ache. Her hair still tumbled down her shoulders in golden waves, and her skin was as luminous as he remembered.

But there were differences, too. Her features had become more mature, less rounded by youth. But her eyes—her glorious, sparkling eyes—were haunted now. Deep purple smudges shadowed the skin beneath. It was clear she needed food, sleep and tender care.

A possessive urgency to see to those needs had him curling his fingers in a white-knuckle grip around the bars. Inhaling slowly, he forced his hands to relax and then reached for her.

She smiled at him, shyly at first. Then, with growing confidence, she took a step closer and placed her fingers in his. Gripping his wrist with her other hand, she brought his open palm to her face.

He cupped her cheek as gently as the barrier between them would allow. The contact eased the furious knot of tension in his stomach. But only for a moment. Old guilt warred with a new sense of regret, and Logan couldn’t say which hurt more to suppress. He clenched his teeth so hard a muscle jumped at his jaw.

Suddenly, she staggered back a step. “Oh, Logan, I have to tell you—”

The outer door burst open, cutting off her words.

Heavy, purposeful footsteps approached from behind. Logan’s shoulders stiffened at the familiar sound. He’d know that clipped, efficient cadence anywhere.

Frustrated at the interruption, he turned on his heel and came face-to-face with his former mentor. Trey Scott. The man who had trained Logan to think before shooting. The man who had recommended him for the U.S. Marshal position.

The man who had locked Megan in a cold, dark cage.

“Give me the key…Sheriff.”

“Ah.” Trey hitched his hip against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “I see we’re dispensing with the pleasantries. Nevertheless, welcome home, Logan.”

Logan swallowed back an angry response and forced out his words with precision. “As the newly appointed U.S. Marshal I have a duty to—”

“I know your job description.” He gave Logan a meaningful look, reminding them both who’d held the position first. “But this is my jail now. And you’ll play by my rules.”

Out of respect for all this man had done for him, Logan relented. For now.

Changing tactics, he appealed to their history as partners and friends. “I saved your life when Ike Hayes was bent on destroying you. You owe me this one request.”

“Logan,” Trey began, unfolding his arms and pushing to a standing position. “You need to understand the situation. You won’t be so ready to release her once you know the truth.”

The truth? There was only one truth. Megan didn’t belong in a cold, impersonal jail cell.

Logan had failed her once, by leaving town when he should have married her. He wouldn’t walk away again. Nor would he allow her to rot in a cage another hour, much less another day.

“One thing in particular you should know.” Trey cast a look over Logan’s shoulder, sighed. “She—”

“Explanations can wait. I want to speak with her first. Alone.”

Trey’s lips compressed into a thin line. Logan knew the look well. Trey Scott was in an unrelenting mood.

Well, so was Logan. He needed to be near Megan, needed to know she was truly safe. “You can lock me in with her.”

Clearing his features of all expression, Trey glanced over Logan’s shoulder again. For a moment, he simply stared at Megan. A silent message seemed to pass between them before he focused on Logan once more.

“All right.” He retrieved an iron key from his vest pocket. “You can have a few minutes with her. But then you’ll listen to what I have to say.” The last was not a request but an order.

Unwilling to battle his longtime friend—yet—Logan nodded his agreement.

“Now that we understand one another…” Trey lifted his hand.

Logan snatched the key then turned toward the cell door. Before releasing the lock he glared at the other man. “Don’t you have something to do? Outside?”

Unmoving, Trey lifted a single eyebrow. The gesture made him look like a protective father.

Logan remembered the other men with that same look in their eyes. He remembered their resolve as they told him to stay away from Megan. She was too young, they’d claimed a hundred times over. He was too old. She was grieving her mother’s death. He needed to make a secure future for her before whisking her off in marriage. On and on they’d argued against him.

If he had ignored them, if he’d taken Megan as his wife when he’d had the chance, she wouldn’t be in jail now.

Logan had to make this right.

Some of his torment must have shown in his eyes because Trey patted him on the back in a fatherly gesture. “I’ll be just outside, my friend. You have five minutes, no more.”

Logan nodded.

Trey left the jailhouse without another word.

Pivoting, Logan kept his gaze on Megan as he unlocked the door. The grind of metal hinges filled the silence between them. Taking a step into the cell, a sudden wave of helplessness enveloped him. What if he couldn’t save her?

No. Whatever had warranted Megan’s imprisonment Logan would find a way to fix the problem, but for now…

He opened his arms wide.

She hesitated only a second, then a swift smile flashed across her face and she rushed into his embrace.

“Logan,” she whispered, wrapping her fingers around the lapels of his jacket with a fierce grip.

He folded her tightly against him, breathing the scent he remembered well. Clean and fresh, like soap mixed with spring flowers. A pleasant calm descended over him, smoothing the jagged edges of his embittered soul.

So many mistakes to regret.

Exhaling, he dropped his chin on the top of her head. So many choices he should have made differently.

But he was home now. They were together. Everything would be all right. Except…

Everything wasn’t all right.

Megan held her shoulders stiff, as though she intentionally kept a part of herself back from him. In all the times he’d dreamed of this moment, in all the ways he’d expected their reunion to go, none of them included her unyielding in his arms.