Claimed by the Rancher

I stood in Aunt Vera's private parlor with my fists clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms. The afternoon light slanted through the dusty curtains turning the air thick and golden but it did nothing to warm the cold knot twisting in my stomach.

"You what?" My voice cracked like a whip in the quiet room.

Aunt Vera sat behind her little mahogany desk her fingers laced so hard her knuckles went white. She still looked "handsome" in that steel-edged way of women who'd stared down too many rough nights.

Her dark hair was pinned up high a few silver strands catching the lamplight.

"I sold your hand in marriage, Lila," she said her voice steady but tired. "To a man named Jace Harlan. He owns a big cattle spread north of here land and money enough to pull the Rose & Thorn out of the hole it's in. The papers are already signed. He's coming for you tomorrow."

The floor seemed to tilt beneath my boots. I grabbed the back of the velvet chair to keep from falling. "You sold me? Like one of the girls downstairs?" My throat closed up my tight and burning. "I've never—even the thought of letting any of those men touch me—" I couldn't finish. All these years I'd lived in this house, I'd only ever played the piano in the saloon and sang the old ballads that made the cowboys go quiet and dig deeper into their pockets for tips. I poured drinks when I had to smiled when it was expected, but I had never gone upstairs. Never. Aunt Vera had promised me that much, at least.

She pushed to her feet her silk skirts whispering against the floorboards. "Don't look at me like that, girl. Your mother was my sister. I took you in when she died and you had nowhere else to go. This place is drowning in debt—bad loans, a dry season, and the new sheriff bleeding us dry for 'protection.' One more month and the bank takes everything. Including the roof over your head."

"So you trade me away to save it?" My voice rose shaking with fury. "I'm not one of your doves, Aunt. I've kept myself clean in the middle of all this filth. I sing. I play. That's all. And you sell my future to some stranger who probably thinks he's buying himself a whore with a pretty voice?"

The parlor door opened without warning. Jace Harlan stepped in tall, dust-streaked, storm-gray blue eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. He must have arrived early to inspect his "purchase."

Aunt Vera straightened. "Mr. Harlan, this is Lila. She's just a bit overwhelmed."

Jace's gaze flicked over me assessing but he said nothing yet.

I looked from my aunt to this stranger who thought he could own me and something inside me snapped clean in two. The betrayal burned hotter than the desert sun outside. I stepped forward my voice steady and sharp as a knife.

"No. I won't do it." I turned fully to Aunt Vera ignoring Jace completely. "You promised me safety. You promised I'd never have to sell myself. All these years I kept my hands clean while you ran this place into the ground with your 'protection' payments and bad deals. And now you think you can just sign me away like one of the doves upstairs? Like I'm livestock?"

Aunt Vera's face hardened. "Lila, you don't have a choice. The agreement is binding."

I laughed bitter and broken. "Watch me." I snatched the heavy envelope of money from the desk the one Jace must have just delivered and flung it straight at my aunt's chest. It hit with a satisfying thud bills scattering across the floor like dead leaves. "There's your precious deal. Shove it. I'm not your property, and I'm sure as hell not his."

Jace Harlan's eyebrows shot up but he stayed silent his arms crossed watching the fireworks.

I spun on my heel skirts swirling dramatically and headed for the door. At the threshold I paused just long enough to deliver the final blow my voice ringing clear and loud enough for the whole damn saloon to hear if they were listening.

"You can keep your debt, your lies, and your bought-and-paid-for future, Aunt Vera. I'm done. This is my grand fuck you to all of it. Find some other girl to sell."

Without another word I slammed the parlor door so hard the glass in the frame rattled and cracked. The sound echoed down the hallway like a gunshot.

I marched straight to my small room locked the door and dropped to my knees. My hands shook only a little as I pried up the loose floorboard and pulled out my hidden cloth bag. Silver dollars and a few gold pieces poured into my palm every tip I'd earned from piano and song every coin saved in secret. It wasn't much but it was mine. Enough for a train ticket out of Silver Creek. Enough to start over somewhere honest.

Dawn was only hours away. I packed my few belongings into the small carpetbag,

I slipped out the back door with my carpetbag over my shoulder. The air was cool and sharp carrying the scent of sagebrush and horse manure from the livery stable. Silver Creek was still mostly asleep only a few lanterns glowing in windows the distant clang of the blacksmith already at work.

I walked fast toward the train station my boots kicking up little puffs of dust on the boardwalk, my breath coming in short angry bursts. I couldn't stop talking to myself under my breath the words spilling out like steam from a kettle fueling every step.

"Sold me... like I was furniture," I muttered clutching the bag tighter. "After all those promises. 'You'll never have to go upstairs, Lila. You're different.' Lies. All of it. Well, fuck that and fuck her grand plan."

My heart pounded harder with every word. The station wasn't far just past the end of Main Street where the tracks sliced through the scrubland.

"I kept myself clean. Never let any of those men touch me. Sang my heart out so they'd pay for the music not for me. And she throws that away for a stack of bills and some cattle baron's land. No more. I'm done being the good little niece who saves the family business with her body."

A stray dog barked from an alley making me flinch but I kept walking my voice dropping lower but no less fierce.

"Jace Harlan can ride back to his ranch empty-handed. Let Aunt Vera explain why the deal fell apart. Let her face the bank alone. I hope the roof caves in on that rotten parlor. I'm heading east or north anywhere the trains go. I'll play piano in a real hotel. Sing for people who pay because they like the song, not because they want to drag me upstairs afterward. I'll make my own way. I always have."

The station platform came into view the big iron locomotive already hissing steam ready for the morning run. Porters moved about loading crates. I hurried faster the coins in my pocket jingling softly like tiny bells of freedom.

"Done with Silver Creek. Done with being sold. This is my life now, and no one gets to sign it away but me."

I was almost to the ticket window hand already reaching for my saved coins when a rough hand clamped down on my shoulder from behind and yanked me into the narrow alley between the station and the freight shed.

"Give it here, girl," the man growled. He was bigger than me by a foot and a half broad reeking of whiskey and sweat. He was heavy scarred on face twisted under a dirty slouch hat. His fingers dug painfully into my arm. "The bag. The money. All of it. Now."

My stomach lurched but fury won over fear. I swung my carpetbag hard at his legs. "Let go of me!"

He cursed as the bag connected with his knee then backhanded me across the mouth. The blow snapped my head to the side splitting my lip. Blood flooded my tongue hot and metallic. Before I could recover he shoved me hard. I stumbled backward and hit the ground gravel biting into my palms.

"Stupid little bitch," he snarled looming over me. He raised his hand again in a fist.

The second blow never landed.

A powerful arm hooked around the robber's thick neck from behind and jerked him backward with vicious force. The man gurgled his arms flailing as Jace Harlan hauled him off balance like he weighed nothing.

Jace didn't waste time on words. He drove a brutal fist into the robber's kidney, then spun him and slammed another punch straight into his gut. The big man doubled over with a wheezing grunt. Jace followed with a sharp uppercut to the jaw that cracked loud enough to echo. Blood sprayed from the robber's mouth as his head snapped back.

In seconds it was over. Jace planted a knee in the man's back twisting one thick arm up behind him until the robber howled in pain. The thief thrashed once then went still whimpering.

Jace hauled the robber to his feet with ridiculous ease and shoved him stumbling toward the platform, where two wide-eyed porters had frozen. "Tie him up," Jace ordered tossing one of them a coin. "Get the sheriff. Tell him the bastard tried to rob my woman at the station."

My woman.

The words hit me harder than the robber's slap.

Jace turned back to me, wiping his knuckles on his trousers. His storm-gray eyes were cold and determined as they raked over my split lip and the dirt on my dress. "You hurt?"

I pushed myself up on shaky legs wiping blood from my mouth with the back of my hand. "I'm not your woman," I spat my voice hoarse but fierce. "I gave Aunt Vera my grand fuck you yesterday and I meant every word. The deal is off. I'm getting on that train."

Jace stepped closer towering over me. He didn't touch me but his presence filled the alley like a wall. "The papers were signed, Lila. Money changed hands. Far as the law and I are concerned, you're already promised to me. I rode all the way down here to collect my bride, and I don't take kindly to being made a fool of."

He glanced at the locomotive which was hissing steam louder now the conductor calling final boarding. Then his gaze returned to me, hard and unyielding.

"That bastard got one good hit in because you ran off alone. Silver Creek's crawling with men like him. You think you're walking away free? Not happening. You're coming with me back to the ranch. We'll get married proper, today or tomorrow, and you'll learn to live with it. Fighting me won't change what's already done."

My heart hammered. The taste of blood was still sharp on my tongue, my lip throbbing, and now this man this stranger who'd just broken another man in seconds was telling me my escape was over. I clutched my carpetbag tighter the hidden coins suddenly feeling useless.

"I won't marry you," I said lifting my chin even as my voice shook. "You can't force me."

Jace's jaw tightened. "Watch me." He nodded toward the station platform. "Train's leaving. You're not on it. You can walk with me quiet-like, or I'll carry you. Your choice. But either way, you're not running off alone again."

The whistle blew a long mournful wail. Porters were slamming doors. The robber groaned from where he was being bound but Jace ignored him completely, his eyes locked on me like I was already his property.

I stood there bleeding, furious, and trapped between the departing train and the man who still intended to claim me as his wife.

That sound snapped something inside me. I wasn't going to stand here and let him decide my life. Not after everything.

I bolted.

Skirts hiked up in one hand carpetbag clutched in the other and I ran hard toward the moving train my boots pounding the wooden platform. "Stop! Wait!" I shouted at the conductor but the cars were already gaining speed. Behind me I heard Jace curse sharply.

"Damn it, Lila—stop!"

Heavy footsteps thundered after me. I didn't look back. My split lip throbbed blood still trickling down my chin but adrenaline drowned out the pain. I was almost close enough to grab the railing of the last passenger car when a strong arm snaked around my waist from behind and yanked me off my feet.

I screamed and twisted my elbow flying back. It connected with something solid his chest maybe but it didn't slow him. Jace spun me around and tackled me to the ground in one smooth powerful motion his body crashing down on top of mine in the dirt and gravel beside the tracks.

The impact knocked the breath out of me. My carpetbag went flying coins scattering with soft metallic pings. I kicked and clawed my nails raking at his arms and shoulders and heels digging into the ground trying to buck him off. "Get off me! I'm not yours! Let me go!"

Jace pinned my wrists above my head with one big hand his weight holding my legs down. He was breathing hard now dust coating his hat and coat his storm-gray eyes blazing with frustration and something darker. His body pressed full-length against mine chest to chest his hips locked over my hips. Through the layers of my skirt and his trousers I felt something hard and insistent pressing firmly against my lower belly rigid and hot even through the fabric.

I froze for a second confusion cutting through the panic. It wasn't his belt buckle or a gun I knew what those felt like from the saloon. This was different. Thicker, warmer, alive in a way that made no sense to me.

"What... what is that?" I gasped my voice small and bewildered my innocent mind scrambling for an answer. My cheeks burned hotter than the slap from the robber. "Why are you... hard there? Get it off me!"

Jace went still for half a heartbeat his grip on my wrists tightening just enough to remind me I wasn't getting free. His face was close enough I could see the faint scar along his jaw and the way his eyes darkened at my confused question. He didn't laugh. Didn't explain. Just exhaled roughly through his nose his voice low and rough when he finally spoke.

"That's what happens when a man chases down a woman who's meant to be his wife and she fights him like a wild thing." His hips shifted slightly not grinding but enough that I felt the hard length of him again unmistakable now. "You're innocent as they come, aren't you? Good. That part of the deal still stands."

I bucked again fresh fury mixing with the strange frightening heat of his body on mine. "I'm not your wife! I said no. I told Aunt Vera exactly where she could shove that deal. Let me up!"

He didn't move. The train was gone now, its whistle fading into the distance like a dying moan leaving only the hiss of steam and the distant clang of the station. Jace's free hand brushed a strand of hair from my face almost gentle but his grip on my wrists stayed iron.

"Fighting's done, Lila. You ran, you fought, and you lost. Those papers are binding. You're coming back with me to the ranch. We'll stand before the preacher today or tomorrow ...your choice how hard you want to make the ride there." His voice dropped even lower, edged with warning and possession. "Keep struggling and I'll tie your hands and throw you over my saddle like a sack of grain. Quiet down and I'll let you ride proper. Either way, you're mine now."

My chest heaved under his weight my lip still bleeding dirt and gravel digging into my back. The hard press of him against me was confusing and terrifying in equal measure something my body didn't understand but instinctively knew meant danger... and something else I had no name for. Tears of rage and helplessness pricked at my eyes but I blinked them back.

I wasn't done fighting. Not yet. But the train was gone my coins were scattered in the dirt and the man who'd bought me was holding me down with terrifying ease his body making promises I didn't want to hear.

He said flatly his voice low and rough as he looked down at me. "The train is gone now. Are you gonna come with me willingly?"

I answered by twisting my head sharply to the side and trying to buck him off one more time even though I knew it was useless.

Jace exhaled through his nose irritated. "You're making yourself bleed even more, you stubborn fool."

Fresh blood was trickling faster down my chin from the split lip I kept reopening with every jerk of my head. He didn't wait for me to stop. With his free hand he reached into his coat pulled out a folded bandana and forcibly wiped at my face. I tried to turn away but he gripped my jaw firmly with strong fingers and held my head still then used his arm to hold my face the started the dabbing and scrubbing the blood and dirt from my mouth, cheek, and chin with rough practical strokes. The cloth came away stained dark red as he cleaned me up whether I wanted it or not.

"Damaging what belongs to me already," he muttered his voice edged with annoyance. "I paid good money for a clean, untouched bride, not some bloody, dirt-covered woman who can't stop hurting herself the second she runs. Hold still."

I glared up at him my chest heaving but my struggles had slowed to weak twists that did nothing against his effortless strength. He finished wiping my face

the bandana now soaked with my blood and tossed it aside. He kept my wrists pinned and his body weight holding me down.

"The train's gone," he repeated, eyes hard with possession. "Your coins are scattered in the dirt. There's nothing left for you here but trouble. You're coming back with me to the ranch. We'll stand before the preacher today or tomorrow your choice how difficult you want to make it. But you're mine now, Lila. Signed and paid for. Fighting me only hurts what's already mine."

My lip throbbed where he'd cleaned it my face stinging from the rough bandana my body pinned helplessly beneath the man who had bought me and clearly intended to keep me as his wife. Tears of rage burned in my eyes but I blinked them back. The train's whistle was a faint, dying echo in the distance.

I wasn't done hating this. I wasn't done being furious.But the fight had truly gone out of the moment, and Jace wasn't letting go.

Jace stared down at me for a long moment, his storm-gray eyes flat with irritation. "Alright," he said finally his voice low and decisive. "I guess we're doing this the hard way."

He released my wrists only long enough to pull a length of rawhide cord from his saddlebag thin, strong. Before I could scramble away he caught my hands again crossing my wrists in front of me and tying them tightly together with quick practiced knots. The cord bit into my skin, not enough to cut off circulation but firm enough that I couldn't twist free no matter how I pulled.

"Get up," he ordered hauling me to my feet with one easy motion. I stumbled still dizzy from the tackle and the rough cleaning. He bent down, scooped up my carpetbag and a handful of the scattered coins, and shoved them into the bag before slinging it over his shoulder. Then he half-dragged half-carried me across the now-empty platform to where his big chestnut horse waited tied to a post.

I tried one last weak twist as he lifted me into the saddle. "Don't do this. Please."

He swung up behind me without answering, one arm locking around my waist like an iron band, the other taking the reins. "You had your chance to come willingly," he muttered against my ear. "Now you ride tied."

The ride back into Silver Creek was short but miserable. I sat stiffly in front of him my wrists bound in my lap the rawhide rubbing with every step of the horse. Jace didn't speak again until we reached the edge of town and he turned toward the small white church on the side street.

The door was locked. A handwritten note tacked to it read: Preacher Williams called away to the next town. Back tomorrow morning.

Jace read it once his jaw tight then turned the horse toward the Silver Creek Hotel the only decent place in town that wasn't attached to a saloon. "Looks like we wait till morning," he said flatly. "We'll stay here tonight. Married tomorrow."

He dismounted first then lifted me down like I weighed nothing, keeping one hand on my bound wrists as he led me inside. The clerk took one look at my tied hands, my dirt-streaked dress, and Jace's hard expression and didn't ask questions. Jace paid for the best room with a private bath and ordered a hot meal sent up.

The room was simple but clean a big iron bed, a small table with two chairs, and a washstand. Jace untied my wrists only after the door was locked behind us and the food tray had been delivered roast beef, potatoes, gravy, and fresh bread. He pointed at the chair. "Sit. Eat."

I sat but I couldn't make myself eat properly. My stomach was in knots. I pushed the pieces of beef and potatoes around the plate with my fork, making little patterns in the gravy. When that didn't calm the anxiety, I started picking at the skin around my nails digging at a hangnail until it bled a tiny bit. My leg bounced under the table. I kept glancing at the door, at the window, anywhere but at him.

Jace watched me for a few minutes in silence his own plate nearly clean. Then his hand shot across the table and grabbed both of my wrists pulling my hands away from my mouth and pinning them flat on the tabletop.

"Stop," he said sharply. "You're picking yourself raw and ruining what belongs to me. I didn't pay good money for a nervous, half-starved bride who can't sit still without damaging herself." His grip was firm but not painful it was impossible to pull free from. "Eat the food like a proper wife, or I'll feed you myself. And quit tearing at your nails. You're bleeding again."

I glared at him my cheeks burning with a mix of shame and anger my bound wrists now held hostage on the table. The nervous energy still buzzed under my skin but his large calloused hands kept mine trapped and still. The room felt suddenly smaller the locked door a heavy reminder that there was no running tonight.

Even trapped like this I couldn't keep my mouth shut. "Proper wife?" I muttered my voice laced with sarcasm as I tried to tug my hands back. "You mean the one you bought from my aunt like a used piano? How romantic."

Jace's mouth twitched. Instead of the anger I expected his storm-gray eyes crinkled with faint amusement like my little barb was more cute than threatening. He leaned back slightly but didn't let go of my wrists. "Feisty even when you're tied and cornered. I like that fire more than I should, Lila."

He tilted his head the amusement deepening. "Do you really want me to feed you? Open your mouth like a good girl and I'll do it spoon by spoon nice and slow."

Heat flooded my face. I yanked harder at my hands, the sassy defiance rising before I could stop it. "No," I snapped lifting my chin. "I'm not some helpless calf you have to force-feed. I can eat on my own just fine, thank you."

Jace released my wrists slowly that amused glint still in his eyes. "Then eat then, huh?"

I picked up the fork again stabbing a piece of potato harder than necessary pushing the food around my plate in stubborn little circles. The small act of rebellion felt good even if it changed nothing.

A knock sounded at the door. The hotel boy entered with a pitcher of fresh water his eyes downcast. I saw my chance and raised my voice loud enough for the whole hallway to hear.

"This man bought me from my aunt like livestock!" I announced clearly. "Tied my wrists and dragged me here against my will. Is that how proper husbands behave in Silver Creek? Someone should tell the sheriff!"

The boy's face went beet red. He fumbled the pitcher water sloshing onto the floor and stammered something incoherent before practically fleeing the room slamming the door behind him.

Jace stiffened a faint flush creeping up his neck beneath the stubble. For a moment he looked genuinely embarrassed caught off guard in front of the staff. He cleared his throat the amusement flickering but not quite gone. "Clever little move," he said his voice low and edged with warning now. "Embarrassing me in front of the boy. You think that'll save you from tomorrow?"

He took another slow bite of his meal chewing as he studied me. "It only makes me more set on marrying you proper. That sharp tongue of yours is going to need taming, but damn if it isn't entertaining for now."

I pushed another piece of beef around my plate trying to hide the shaky satisfaction I felt at rattling him even for a second. My fingers itched to pick at my nails again but I caught myself this time glancing warily at his hands across the table.

The big iron bed loomed in the corner like a threat the locked door a heavy reminder that there was no escape tonight. Tomorrow morning the preacher would return, and I'd be forced to stand beside this man and speak vows I didn't mean.

But for these few minutes, at least, my small defiance still burned and Jace seemed more amused by it than truly angry.

Jace paused mid-bite his fork halfway to his mouth. His gaze locked on mine the amusement deepening into something darker and more heated. He set the fork down slowly leaning forward across the table until his broad shoulders cast a shadow over my plate. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest not mocking, but genuinely entertained by my boldness.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough" he said his voice dropping low and rough. "It means teaching that sharp tongue of yours when to speak and when to stay quiet. Teaching those nervous hands to behave instead of tearing at themselves. Teaching you exactly who you belong to now." His eyes flicked briefly to the big iron bed in the corner then back to me. "And it starts tomorrow, once the preacher makes it official. Keep pushing, Lila, and I might just give you a preview tonight."

Heat rushed to my face again a confusing mix of anger and something warmer I didn't want to name. I stabbed another piece of potato pushing it around harder than before, but I kept my mouth shut this time mostly because I didn't trust what might come out next.

Jace went back to eating that faint amused smirk still playing at the corner of his mouth. The room felt smaller, the locked door heavier, and the looming wedding tomorrow suddenly felt a lot closer.

I couldn't sit still. My fork kept pushing the cooling potatoes into meaningless swirls in the gravy. After a minute Jace pulled a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket some letter or document, creased from travel and leaned back in his chair to read it by the lamplight ignoring me for the moment.

I watched him resentment and curiosity warring inside me. The silence stretched until I couldn't stand it. "What does that even say?" I asked my tone sharp and demanding.

Jace didn't look up right away. He turned the page slowly then finally glanced at me with one raised eyebrow. "You asked me to tell you what this says."

I rolled my eyes the sass bubbling up before I could swallow it. "Well, obviously. That's why I asked, isn't it? Or do you think I'm just talking to hear myself speak?"

He set the paper down folding it once, and studied me with that same mix of amusement and warning. "Maybe I don't think women need to be poking their noses into men's business. Reading every scrap of paper that crosses my desk." His voice was low almost teasing, but there was a hard edge underneath. "Or maybe I'm just not telling you right now because you've been nothing but sassy since we walked through that door. Keep it up and I might never tell you. But..." He leaned forward slightly gray eyes locking on mine. "If you're sweet to me later really sweet maybe I'll read it to you then. Your choice."

I huffed crossing my arms over my chest. Sweet? To him? The man who'd tied me up and dragged me here? The idea was ridiculous, Still, the unanswered question gnawed at me. While he went back to his letter, I spotted a blank corner of another piece of paper he'd set aside on the table probably for notes. Without thinking, I reached for it along with the stub of a pencil lying nearby.

I started doodling sharp little lines at first, angry scratches that turned into swirling vines and tiny, defiant flowers. Then I added a crude sketch of a train steaming away, leaving a tiny stick-figure man with a cowboy hat standing alone on the platform, looking foolish. It was childish, but it made me feel a tiny bit better like I was reclaiming some small piece of control.

Jace noticed after a minute. He lowered his letter and watched me his head tilted. Instead of scolding me for touching his things his mouth twitched again that damn amused smirk returning stronger. "Look at you," he murmured his voice softer than before. "Drawing little pictures like a schoolgirl when you're supposed to be eating. It's almost cute, the way you fight me with everything but your words sometimes."

I didn't look up but my pencil paused. "Cute?" I muttered adding one last dramatic puff of smoke to the train. "I'm not trying to be cute. I'm trying to remember what freedom looks like."

He chuckled quietly the sound low and warm in the quiet room. "Keep telling yourself that, Lila. But that little train you drew? It's not leaving without me on it anymore." He reached over and gently tugged the paper closer to him studying my doodle for a long moment. The amusement in his eyes didn't fade. If anything it deepened like my small act of rebellion was more endearing than irritating to him.

I snatched my hands back into my lap before they could start picking at my nails again but the nervous energy still buzzed under my skin. The big iron bed waited in the corner like a sentence waiting to be carried out. Tomorrow the preacher would make this nightmare official.

Jace chuckled quietly at my doodle, the low sound filling the quiet room like he actually found my little train sketch charming instead of annoying. He set the paper aside without taking it away from me then went back to his own letter occasionally glancing up as if checking that I hadn't started picking at my nails again.

Eventually the lamplight grew softer and the noises from the street below faded. The roast beef had gone cold on my plate and my eyes were starting to feel heavy despite how much I fought it. Jace folded his paper neatly and looked over at me his storm-gray eyes steady.

"It's your bedtime," he said simply pushing his chair back from the table.

I blinked the words hitting me like a slap. "I don't have a bedtime, thank you," I shot back crossing my arms tighter over my chest. "What am I, five?"

Jace's mouth twitched again with that irritating amusement. "No, you're not five." He stood up tall and broad in the small room and moved to the washstand. He poured fresh water from the pitcher into the basin, dipped a clean cloth in it, and wrung it out. Then he came back to the table and tilted my chin up with two fingers before I could pull away.

"Hold still," he murmured. The wet cloth was cool and gentle against my split lip and the dried blood on my chin. He wiped carefully cleaning away the last traces of the earlier fight at the station and the mess I'd made while struggling. His touch was surprisingly careful for such rough hands, but his voice stayed firm. "There. Better. Now go lay down in the bed."

I jerked my chin out of his grip my heart beating faster as I glanced at the big iron bed with its crisp white sheets. "I'm not laying in any bed right now, thank you," I said the sass sharp in my voice even as nervousness twisted in my stomach. "Especially not with you watching me like I'm some prize horse you just bought."

Jace exhaled through his nose half sigh half chuckle. He tossed the damp cloth back into the basin and stood there his arms crossed over his broad chest, looking down at me with a mix of patience and possession. "You've had a long day, Lila. Running, fighting, getting your face bloodied up, and still finding time to sass me and doodle trains. Bed. Now. I'll sleep in the chair if it makes you feel better tonight, but you're getting some rest. Tomorrow's the wedding, and you'll stand up there without looking like you've been dragged through the dirt."

I stayed seated my fingers twitching like they wanted to push the cold food around again or start picking at my nails. The idea of climbing into that bed even alone felt too final, too much like giving in. "You can't just order me to bed like I'm a child," I muttered but my voice came out quieter this time the exhaustion creeping in despite my defiance.

He didn't argue. Instead he simply reached down, took my hands in his to stop the nervous fidgeting, and gave them a gentle but unyielding squeeze. "I can, and I am. You're mine now. That means I take care of what's mine including making sure you don't wear yourself out fighting shadows. Go on. Lay down."

The room felt warmer the lamplight softer and the weight of the day pressed heavy on my shoulders. My split lip throbbed faintly under the clean cloth and my body ached from the tackle and the long, angry walk to the station that morning.

I wasn't ready to stop fighting. Not really.

But my eyes were heavy, and the big iron bed suddenly looked less like a prison and more like a place where I could at least close my eyes for a few hours.

Jace stood there with his arms crossed waiting for me to move. The wet cloth had left my face feeling cool and clean, but my defiance was still burning hot.

"Now?" I scoffed, staying firmly in the chair. "You can't make me. I'm not tired." I tilted my head looking him up and down with a mocking little smile. "If you're so tired, why don't you go to bed, old man?"

Jace's eyebrows rose slightly. He wasn't that much older than me maybe eight or ten years at most — but the word clearly landed. His storm-gray eyes narrowed though the corner of his mouth twitched with reluctant amusement.

"Old man?" he repeated his voice low and dangerous.

Before I could scramble away or add another jab, he stepped forward bent down and scooped me up like I weighed nothing. One strong arm hooked behind my knees, the other around my back. I yelped and kicked but he simply tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of grain, my bound wrists from earlier still making it hard to fight properly.

"Put me down!" I demanded pounding my fists uselessly against his back as he carried me across the room. "This is ridiculous! I'm not a child!"

He didn't answer. With one smooth motion he tossed me onto the big iron bed. I bounced once on the mattress skirts flying up and tried to roll away. Jace was faster. He caught my wrists again and pulled a fresh length of rawhide from his coat in the chair and tied them securely to the iron headboard above my head. The knots were firm but not cruel. I could move a little but I wasn't going anywhere.

I tugged at the cords glaring up at him. "You bastard. Untie me right now!"

Jace straightened looking down at me sprawled on the bed with my arms stretched above me. His gaze darkened sweeping over my flushed face, my heaving chest, and the way my dress had ridden up slightly from the struggle. A slow, predatory smile curved his lips.

"I can't wait to do this to you after we're married," he said his voice rough and low with promise. "It'll be a lot more fun that time."

Heat flooded my entire body anger, embarrassment, and something frighteningly I didn't want to name. I yanked harder at the restraints my cheeks burning. "You're disgusting. I'll never let you —"

He cut me off with a quiet chuckle stepping back and finally moving toward the chair by the window. "Get some sleep, Lila. Tomorrow you become Mrs. Jace Harlan whether you like it or not." He settled into the chair his long legs stretched out watching me with that same mix of amusement and possession. "And stop calling me old man. I've got plenty of years left to keep up with that fire of yours."

The lamp burned low. My arms ached slightly from being tied above my head but the bed was soft beneath me. Exhaustion from the long terrible day finally started to pull at me despite how hard I fought it. I muttered one last quiet insult under my breath but my eyelids grew heavier with every passing minute.

Outside, Silver Creek had gone quiet. Inside, the man who had bought me sat watching, waiting for morning when the preacher would make everything official.

I wasn't done fighting.

But tonight, tied to the bed and utterly overpowered, all I could do was glare at the ceiling and wait for sleep to take me.

Jace stood over the bed for another long moment, that slow, predatory smile still lingering on his lips after his quiet promise. My wrists tugged uselessly at the rawhide cords binding them to the iron headboard my heart still racing from the way he'd tossed me onto the mattress like I weighed nothing.

He didn't say anything else right away. Instead, he turned and crossed the room to the small desk in the corner. The oil lamp sat there casting its warm golden light across the space. With one hand he picked it up and carried it further away setting it down on the far side of the desk near his chair. Then he twisted the wick down until the flame shrank to almost nothing just a tiny flickering glow that barely reached the edges of the room.

The bed fell into deep shadow. The darkness wrapped around me like a heavy blanket, swallowing the iron posts and the white sheets until I could barely make out the shape of my own hands tied above my head. Only the faintest outline of Jace remained visible where he settled back into the chair by the window, his long legs stretched out, boots crossed at the ankles.

"Hey," I protested weakly, my voice sounding smaller in the sudden dark. "It's too dark over here. I can't even see—"

"Sleep, Lila," he said quietly from the shadows. His voice was low, calm, almost soothing in a way that made my stomach flutter with nerves. "You've fought enough for one day. The lamp stays where it is. Close your eyes."

I opened my mouth to argue again to call him old man one more time or tell him exactly where he could shove his orders but the words died on my tongue. The exhaustion from the long, awful day crashed over me all at once: the argument with Aunt Vera, the robbery at the station, the tackle in the dirt, being carried and tied like a captive. My split lip throbbed dully, my shoulders ached from the awkward position, and my eyelids felt impossibly heavy.

I tugged at the rawhide once more, a half-hearted little jerk that did nothing. "This isn't fair..." I mumbled, but even I could hear how sleepy my voice had become.

Jace didn't answer. He just sat there in the near-dark, a silent, watchful presence across the room.

The darkness pressed in, soft and heavy. The faint flicker of the distant lamp blurred at the edges of my vision. My breathing slowed despite myself. One minute I was glaring toward the shadowy shape of him, the next my eyes were drifting shut, my body sinking deeper into the soft mattress.

I passed out without meaning to slipping into a deep dreamless sleep while still tied to the bed the man who had bought me keeping quiet watch from the corner.

Morning light filtered through the thin curtains when I woke. My wrists were still loosely bound to the headboard, but the rawhide had been loosened overnight so the ache wasn't sharp. Jace was already up and moving quietly around the room. He'd changed into a fresh shirt and his black hat rested on the table. The faint smell of coffee and fresh biscuits drifted in from the hallway.

He glanced over when he saw my eyes open that same mix of amusement and possession in his storm-gray gaze. "Morning. Preacher's back in town. We've got a wedding to attend."

My stomach dropped. The fight rushed back into me all at once. I tugged at the cords glaring at him. "I'm not marrying you. You can drag me there, but you can't make me say the words."

Jace didn't argue or raise his voice. He simply crossed the room untied my wrists with quick, efficient movements and helped me sit up. Then he reached behind the chair and lifted a large, flat box I hadn't noticed the night before.

He set it on the bed beside me and opened the lid.

Inside lay a dress a beautiful simple gown of soft blue calico with delicate white lace at the collar and cuffs. The fabric looked fine but practical for ranch life, with a fitted bodice and full skirt. My breath caught.

It was the exact dress I had stared at longingly in the mercantile window back in Silver Creek for weeks the one I'd secretly wished I could afford with my hidden savings.

"How... how did you know?" I whispered confusion cutting through my anger. I touched the lace with trembling fingers. "I never told anyone."

Jace shrugged one broad shoulder. "Shopkeeper remembered the girl who lingered at the window. Figured my bride should have something she actually wants to wear on her wedding day."

I stared at the dress emotions swirling. Part of me wanted to shove the box away.

"You can't make me wear it," I said defiantly lifting my chin. "And you definitely can't make me say the words."

Jace leaned down closer his storm-gray eyes locking onto mine with calm unyielding certainty. "I can't make you wear the dress, Lila. But I can carry you through the streets of Silver Creek in nothing but your shift if that's what it takes to get you to the church. Everyone will see. Everyone will talk. Is that really how you want your wedding day to start?"

The threat landed like a slap. The image of being paraded half-naked through town, with shopkeepers, saloon girls, and strangers staring and whispering, made my face burn with humiliation. I hated how easily he could force my hand. I hated that refusing would only make everything worse.

With a frustrated huff I snatched the dress from the box. "Fine," I muttered through gritted teeth. "I'll wear your damn dress. But I still won't say the vows."

Jace straightened satisfaction flickering in his eyes. He moved to the corner and unfolded the tall accordion-style privacy screen positioning it between the bed and the rest of the room. The thin fabric panels let in soft morning light but blocked his direct view.

"Go ahead and get dressed," he said from the other side his voice steady. "We leave in ten minutes."

I slipped behind the screen my heart pounding with resentment. The calico felt cool and soft against my skin as I peeled off my old dirty dress and stepped into the new one. The fit was surprisingly perfect the lace brushing gently at my throat and wrists. I fastened the buttons with shaking hands the subtle rustle of fabric loud in the quiet space.

When I finally stepped out from behind the accordion screen the blue dress hugging my figure modestly but prettily Jace looked up. His gaze lingered darkening with quiet approval.

"Looks good on you," he said simply. Then he added with that same calm certainty that sent a chill down my spine, "Don't worry about saying the words. I can make you say them."

Ha I doubt it.

My heart hammered as he offered his arm the beautiful dress suddenly feeling like both a gift and a cage. The threat hung heavy between us as we left the hotel room and headed toward the church.

The walk to the little white church was short but felt endless. I moved stiffly in the beautiful blue calico dress, the lace at my throat and wrists a constant reminder of how neatly Jace had trapped me. He kept one hand lightly on the small of my back not rough, but firm enough that I knew I couldn't bolt without him catching me instantly. A few townspeople glanced our way their eyebrows raised at the sight of the saloon girl in a wedding dress walking beside the tall cattleman but no one dared say anything.

Inside the church the air was cool and smelled of polished wood and old hymnals. Preacher Williams stood waiting at the front looking slightly flustered from his sudden return. He gave us a quick smile. "Mr. Harlan. Miss... Lila, is it? Shall we begin?"

Jace nodded once. "Make it quick, Preacher."

I stood beside him at the simple altar my fists clenched in the folds of my new dress. My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my ears. When the preacher began the familiar words, I stared straight ahead my jaw locked.

"Do you, Jace Harlan, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do," Jace said without hesitation his deep voice steady.

The preacher turned to me smiling kindly. "And do you, Lila, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love, honor, and obey, for better or for worse, as long as you both shall live?"

Silence.

I felt every eye in the small church on me even though it was only the preacher, his wife as witness, and Jace. The seconds stretched. My throat closed up. I refused to speak.

Jace shifted beside me. His hand moved to my elbow gripping it firmly but not painfully. He leaned in close his breath brushing my ear so only I could hear.

"Say it, Lila," he murmured his voice low and calm. "Or I walk you straight back to the Rose & Thorn right now and tell your aunt the deal is back on full price and I want my refund. She'll put you upstairs tonight to earn back what I paid. Every single night until the debt is cleared. Your choice."

The threat hit like ice water. Images flashed through my mind the dusty upstairs rooms, the rough hands of drunken men, the smell of whiskey and cheap perfume. Aunt Vera's cold disappointed face. I had nowhere else to run. Not where the money I had saved would last more then 3 days.

My lips trembled. Tears of helpless rage pricked at my eyes.

The preacher cleared his throat awkwardly. "Miss Lila?"

Jace's fingers tightened just a fraction on my elbow a silent reminder.

I swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper cracking with fury and defeat. "...I do."

The words tasted like ash.

The preacher looked relieved and hurried on. "Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Jace turned me toward him one big hand cupping my jaw. He didn't force the kiss to be deep or passionate just a firm, claiming press of his lips against mine sealing the vow I had been made to speak. When he pulled back, his storm-gray eyes held mine with quiet satisfaction.

"Mrs. Harlan," he said softly almost gently though the possession in his tone was unmistakable.

I stood there in my pretty blue dress newly married and the weight of the words I'd been forced to say sitting heavy in my chest. The fight wasn't gone not by a long shot but for the moment, Jace had won.

Outside the church, his horse waited. The ranch and my new life as his wife lay north of town.