Branded

Branded
Tori Carrington

Successful rancher Trace has made his mark as a man. So what’s troubling the gorgeous Texan? His head wrangler Jo – a rough, tough, sexy-as-sin cowgirl – is driving him wild with desire – and he’s determined to brand her as his own.But he’s not the only one…

Multi-award-winning, bestselling husband-and-wife duo LORI AND TONY KARAYIANNI are the power behind the pen name TORI CARRINGTON. Their more than thirty-five titles include numerous Blaze® mini-series, as well as the ongoing Sofie Metropolis comedic mystery series with another publisher. Visit www.toricarrington.net, www.sofiemetro.com and www.myspace.com/toricarrington for more information on the couple and their titles.

We dedicate this book to fellow bad girls everywhere. Remember, being strong also means allowing yourself to be vulnerable. And, as always, to our extraordinary editor Brenda Chin, who tries to convince us all that she’s a good girl, but ah, those bad-girl tendencies give her away every time!

Branded

Tori Carrington

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Table of Contents

Cover (#uae0ec09a-6496-50ba-a771-4b3c63173147)

About the Author (#u8b57097b-2117-5bcc-ad45-c4be428690f4)

Title Page (#u0c053162-1728-5490-a71a-2eb966e892e8)

Chapter One (#uabd306c9-6579-5a9e-b5fc-4c12a1b48f35)

Chapter Two (#u3ef41e2a-a36f-5ced-b49b-b5843da12c03)

Chapter Three (#udd24c9de-ba9e-5b02-9004-5b071e0f5971)

Chapter Four (#u8f3745ca-9535-50f4-b1cf-a3b6c85a5bf5)

Chapter Five (#u86e41f4e-0259-530f-83e5-14b49ad73b49)

Chapter Six (#u0967888f-e15d-55f2-afef-896757831df5)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Forteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

WILDEWOOD RANCH LAY an hour and a half outside San Antonio and had been in the Armstrong family for four generations. It boasted over twenty thousand acres of rich southwest Texas land, twenty-six ranch hands and five thousand head of Angus cattle.

And twenty-nine-year-old Trace Armstrong was the successful manager and half owner of the whole operation.

Or, rather, had been for the past six years. But with his older brother, Eric, a marine, coming home for good this weekend…well, Trace expected everything would be thrown into a state of flux.

“Now that’s the type of filly stallions will stand in line to service.”

Trace tilted his cowboy hat back on his head and stared at the town’s sheriff, who stood beside him on the bunkhouse porch. Had the old son of a bitch just said that about one of his ranch hands? Yes, he had. Trace knew this not because he’d followed John Brody’s line of vision—even though it had been his own moments before—but because Jo Atchison was the only “filly” currently on the premises.

A couple of cowboys chuckled behind him.

Trace grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck, which the day’s drive had coated with dust and grime in the June heat. He was born to this land, so he supposed he should be used to the often explicit nature of the men’s exchanges. But for reasons he preferred not to identify, Sheriff Brody’s commentary didn’t sit well with him.

“Too bad she’s already got one,” another of the ranch hands said.

Trace squinted into the bright orange ball that was the setting sun, watching Jo talk to her sometimes boyfriend, who had just pulled up on his Harley outside the stables. She was some two hundred yards away, so Trace could make out little more than her silhouette, but oh, what a silhouette it was. Legs that went on forever, full breasts and long, flowing dark hair. Jo was one of the ranch foreman’s more recent hires. She’d started six or seven months ago, and had become the guys’ favorite topic around this time of day, if only because of the absence of any other female on the ranch, and Jo’s lack of response to their interest.

Trace turned away and leaned against the porch railing of the modern bunkhouse, ignoring his own desire to watch her. He told himself he wasn’t like the other men, but in the end he was no different. Despite Jo’s considerable talents as a wrangler—she bested a lot of the guys on a bad day, and on a good day bested them all—he caught himself staring after her more times than he’d care to admit.

“I don’t think you came all the way out here to drool after one of my ranch hands, did you, Sheriff?” he said quietly, taking a couple of beers from the nearby cooler, which had been set out with the barbecue dinner for the two dozen cowboys. He handed the older man a bottle.