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eBook Category: Historical Fiction
eBook Description: Samantha Storm, kidnapped off a stagecoach, ends up in a mountain cabin, naked, in bed with a total stranger who has no more idea than she does how they got that way. The mystery deepens when they reach town and find out they are married. If given the choice between marriage and a snake bite, Nick McBride would have chosen the snake. Now, thanks to his cousin Jeff, Nick finds himself married to a red-headed hellcat who spells trouble with a capital T.

eBook Publisher: The Fiction Works, Published: http://www.fictionworks.com, 2004
Fictionwise Release Date: July 2004

24 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [1.4 MB], eReader (PDB) [303 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [295 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [260 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [265 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [294 KB], hiebook (KML) [681 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [335 KB], iSilo (PDB) [242 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [302 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [351 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [392 KB]
Words: 92287
Reading time: 263-369 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Canyon Springs, Colorado

August 1866

A long, slender finger of sunlight reached out and jabbed Samantha Storm's aching eyes. She moaned and turned her face away from the invading beam. Shivering in the early-morning cold, she tugged at the blanket and snuggled closer to the warmth at her side. "Umm," she murmured sleepily. Childlike, she nuzzled the smooth, hard surface beneath her cheek, burrowing her face into the pliant pillow. She frowned, rubbing her chin against the object. Why, it feels almost like a shoulder. A shoulder? Don't be ridiculous. It can't be. I must be dreamin. Intent on getting a few more hours sleep, she pushed the thought out of her mind.

A soft masculine snore tickled the hair next to her ear.

Jerking her eyes open, she gasped. It couldn't be. She blinked in disbelief. But it was. Beside her, a bewhiskered, dark-haired man slept. Lips parted slightly, he snored with obvious contentment.

Samantha bolted upright, staring at her slumbering companion. Eyes wide with fear, she opened her mouth to scream, but only a tiny squeak slid past her lips. She scooted away, feeling the edge of the bed an instant before she tumbled off onto the floor. Dusty, cold, rough wood met her bare buttocks.

Bare? She looked down. Sunlight illuminated her totally naked body. "Oh, no!"

She sprang to her feet and grabbed her head with both hands. The room tilted crazily. She reached for the wall to steady herself. Oh, my head hurts, and why am I so dizzy? And where are my clothes? She peered through the gloom searching for her black dress. It was nowhere in sight. In fact, she didn't see any of her belongings ... anywhere. Looking for some way to save her modesty, she spied a gray wool blanket ... draped over the man.

Snatching the end of the coverlet, she jerked it free and flung it around her shoulders. It scratched and smelled of mildew and old dust. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she glanced toward the bed. She sucked in her breath, her eyes feeling too big for her face.

The lean, bronzed figure on the bed wore nothing more than a disturbed frown.

"Merciful heavens!" Samantha clamped her hand over her mouth and stepped backward, coming to a stop with her bottom against the rough log wall.

The man shifted slightly, moving toward the warm spot she had vacated. He muttered, then exhaled with a loud snore.

She watched him, not daring to move, not daring to breathe, making sure he was still asleep. When the snores followed one upon another, she released a ragged sigh.

Frantically, she scrutinized the other side of the dank one-room cabin, squinting to pierce the gloom. An ugly, black, potbellied stove hulked in one corner; a rickety hand-hewn plank table and two chairs occupied the other. Where am I? And how did I come to be here--naked--with him? She raised her trembling hand to her brow. My head hurts too bad to think. She licked her dry lips. My tongue tastes awful, and my mouth feels like I have been chewing cotton.

Peering back at the bed, she studied the man's face. Who is he? And how on earth did I come to be in his bed? She had never been in bed with a man before in her life. She knew she would have remembered that. She'd never seen him before; she was sure of it.

Black hair, thick and wildly tousled, framed lean features that looked harsh even in sleep. Long, sooty lashes lay against deeply bronzed cheeks.

The new growth of a stiff, dark beard shadowed the lower half of his face. Wide, powerful shoulders gleamed like polished mahogany against the worn feather tick. A fine sprinkling of silky black hairs darkened a chest that rose and fell steadily with his even breathing. Tight muscles rippled down the hard plane of his stomach to the prominent evidence of his gender.

Oh, my! Heat flushed her cheeks. She looked away, searching the cabin for something to cover him. Not a single scrap of cloth, not even a gunnysack, lay anywhere in sight. She turned back.

He moved.

She froze in place. What if he wakes up? A chill ran along her backbone. She trembled at the thought. I must get out of here! Watching, she edged toward the door.

He moaned and turned over, presenting her with his bare backside. A deep snore told her he was still asleep.

Faint with relief, Samantha took another cautious step backward. She groped behind her, closing her searching hand over the door handle. She carefully lifted the latch and gave a slight pull. The rough-plank door careened inward with a loud screech. Samantha gasped, her gaze flying to the man.

He didn't move. Her knees weak, she edged through the opening. When her feet finally touched the splintery plank porch, she reached out and slowly eased the door shut.

Trembling, she sagged against the wall and breathed a prayer of thankfulness. Now to get away from this place..

Clutching the blanket around her, she fled into the yard, paying scant notice to the sharp stones piercing her bare feet. She spun around, scrutinizing the surrounding area. No other sign of habitation anywhere ... except for the isolated shack, and by its state of disrepair it appeared to have been deserted for some time.

A cold wind whistled around the dwelling, rattling shingles on the dilapidated roof. A last weather-beaten shingle swung crazily by one hinge, struggling to detached itself and join others decaying on the pine-needled ground. Lofty pines moaned and swayed in a taunting dance. Snow-capped peaks loomed cold and inhospitable in the distance.

Samantha shivered and drew the blanket closer, feeling small and vulnerable in this savage, hostile land. Fighting back hysteria, she scanned the area again, more slowly this time. Hope leaped in her breast when she spied a narrow, rocky path leading off through the brush. She hurriedly followed the trail to its endöa broken rail fence encirclingöan empty corral. She bit her fist, choking back a sob. No horse? Then how did I--we--get here?