The Outlaw's Bride. Catherine Palmer

his careful plans could go up in smoke.

      “I trust my senses, also,” she was saying. “And I sense you are not keeping our contract.”

      “I’ll keep the contract, Isobel. I’m a man of my word. But your lips are telling me one thing, while your eyes are telling me something else.”

      “No. You’re wrong.”

      She tried to step aside, but he caught her shoulders and drew her close. His hands slipped up and cupped her head. His fingers weaving through her silky hair, he pressed his lips against hers.

      Her breath was sweet, fragrant, coming in shallow gasps as she stood rigid in his arms. Puzzled, he studied her face. Surely this gun-toting, haughty, gutsy woman had been kissed many a time. But she trembled against him, her eyes deepening to pools as she gazed into his.

      “Isobel,” he whispered, uncertain what to do next.

      “Kiss me one more time,” she murmured, her eyelids drifting shut. “Just once, and never again.”