Her Forbidden Gunslinger Read Online Free Page A

must be worth a small fortune. Then he noticed her dresser held only a few bottles of perfume, a pot of skin cream and assorted cosmetics. It was devoid of the jewelry box he expected.
    “He doesn’t let you keep any jewelry at all, does he?” Though he had on other occasions seen Sinclair escort Sophie to her room and return moments later with her jewelry in hand, Gray had managed to convince himself it was family heirloom jewelry or some such.
    When she didn’t answer he pinned her with his gaze. “No,” she ground out.
    “Why?”
    No answer.
    “You don’t want to marry that bastard, do you?”
    She reluctantly shook her head and there was a suspicious sheen in her eyes.
    Gray noticed it and detested the twin spasms of pain and anger that shot through his heart. “Dammit!” He didn’t want to care. He didn’t want to want her. He left her there before he could descend any further into madness.

Chapter Three
    The days passed in slow agony for Sophie. A politician or corporate figure graced their table almost every night and she was forced to play hostess while Jean bribed his way to lower taxes or cheaper timber. Everything was a game with him as he looked for ways to turn his copper into gold. She had no choice but to don the facade she had become so adept at wearing and be a pretty fixture at the table.
    It was a facade that had taken her many years and many punishments to cultivate. She’d been ten when her parents had died in the mine explosion. It had been a Sunday and Jean had invited them to go see the progress being made. No one was supposed to be working. But the dynamite had exploded anyway, leaving Jean unscathed. Three years passed before it even occurred to her that he might have had a hand in the accident. She only thought it then because she’d overheard him arguing with Alexandre, who was fifteen by then and too hotheaded to keep his opinions to himself.
    The memory of how badly he’d been beaten still caused her to shudder. She’d begged him to leave and so he had, with a promise to come back for her. But ever since then she’d had trouble hiding her own suspicions and continuing to be the biddable niece. Her resentment was clear in every word, every action, and it hadn’t taken long for Jean to grow weary of it. She’d felt the wrath of his cane across her legs and back more times than she cared to remember.
    Finally, she’d learned to control those rebellious impulses. As long as she played the role he wanted, nothing bad happened. Occasionally she’d still push too far and be struck for it or locked in her room, but nothing like before. It was livable. But with Anton she’d have to learn all over again. And what would be demanded of her would be so much more than she could give.
    Whenever she thought of
those
demands, she thought of Gray. Often she would catch glimpses of him from her bedroom window and blush as she recalled their kiss. Even the memory of it had the power to awaken her senses. She’d thought about asking him to take her to Chicago, but something stayed the impulse. Maybe it was pride, maybe it was the realization that her feelings for him were childish and silly and he almost certainly didn’t return them. Or maybe it was simply that he might refuse and tell Jean. Trust was something she’d learned never to give easily.
    So she stowed those feelings deep within her, alongside the future she had imagined for herself as a child on her family’s ranch. The plot of land she’d hoped to carve out on the far corner where she would marry and raise her children. The way that Gray would fit so well within that fantasy. And so instead she worked on devising an escape plan, while waiting for her uncle to leave on one of his many trips to his mines.
    Escape was the only way to save herself. She’d run to her brother in Chicago, but she needed funds to do that.
    On an evening exactly two weeks after the kiss, Sophie found herself awkwardly arched over a green felt-topped