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Millie And The Fugitive
Millie And The Fugitive
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Millie And The Fugitive

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Millie And The Fugitive
Liz Ireland

The long arm of the law couldn't stretch far enough to catch Sam Winter.But a pair of shapely legs attached to a Texas heiress had stopped him in his tracks. And the last thing he needed was sassy Millie Lively with outrageous notions about "helping" him escape! But the participants in this escapade soon realized they had been captured… . LOVE ON THE RUN!

Praise (#u053f9a92-d242-57a3-9445-33bc84d3facb)“You can’t blame me,” Millie argued. (#ue7095225-2be5-546e-a3d2-6ae8a8fd4f86)Letter to Reader (#ue1f73c0e-b76a-5456-a6b8-dbb0a2f457da)Title Page (#u25a8547f-6a8b-59ed-a6f2-d153cdff0d37)About the Author (#u6be6de20-6d54-595f-a630-320cf64def2c)Chapter One (#u4d236275-a2ce-5950-92a8-ae633a966bd7)Chapter Two (#u5cf88e36-210b-5235-8f9e-f9ea1646b59a)Chapter Three (#ue2e8d51a-a4d8-5875-b7a9-6c13f221af55)Chapter Four (#ua9711d93-bc13-52de-a6f9-cdefed39557d)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)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 Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Praise for

Liz Ireland’s first

historical romance—

CECILIA AND

THE STRANGER

“CECILIA AND THE

STRANGER, with its

small town hominess and

subtle humor, is a heart

warming, thoroughly

enjoyable read.”

—Romantic Times

“Laughter abounds as Jake

and Cecilia butt heads at

every turn... A marvelous

tale from start to finish.”

—Rendezvous

“You can’t blame me,” Millie argued.

No, he couldn’t, Sam admitted to himself. This was all his fault. If he hadn’t gotten the fool notion about Millie’s dress into his head, he could have gone on thinking about her as a...well, a troublesome hostage. But now he was going to be hard pressed to look at her again without thinking of her as she appeared at this moment, that camisole sticking to her collarbone and cleavage, her petticoats outlining her tiny waist, hips and shapely legs.

Damn. He trained his eyes away, toward the spot where they’d left the horses. “All right. It’s my fault. Now hurry up and get your clothes on.”

She shot him an exasperated look. “First you want them off, now you want them on! And all the while you keep pointing that gun at me—how do you expect me to act efficiently under these circumstances?”

Patience! Sam told himself....

Dear Reader,

Liz Ireland’s first book, Man Trap, won her the RT Award for Best Silhouette Romance of the Year in 1993. Now this talented young author has turned her hand to historical novels and we are delighted to be able to bring you her newest title, Millie and the Fugitive. This wonderful story is about an innocent man running from the law who is forced to take along a spoiled rich girl, only to discover that she is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. We hope you’ll enjoy it.

Pearl is part of Romantic Times Lifetime Achievement Award winner Ruth Langan’s new THE JEWELS OF TEXAS series featuring four sisters, brought together by the death of their father. It’s the story of an Eastern-bred schoolteacher and the rough-and-tumble ranch foreman who wants her sent back home where she belongs. Don’t miss any of this terrific series.

Badlands Bride, by Cheryl St.John, is about a newspaper reporter who goes west pretending to be a mail-order bride, only to find herself stranded in the Dakotas for a long cold winter. While Margaret Moore’s new Medieval novel, The Baron’s Quest, is the story of a rough-edged Saxon who falls in love with the refined gentlewoman whom he has inherited along with his new holdings.

We hope you’ll keep a lookout for all four titles wherever Harlequin Historicals are sold.

Sincerely,

Tracy Farrell

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Harlequin Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Millie and the Fugitive

Liz Ireland

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

LIZ IRELAND

lives in her native state of Texas, a place she feels gives her a never-ending supply of colorful characters. Aside from writing romance novels and tending to two very demanding cats and a guard dachshund, she enjoys spending time reading history or cozying up with an old movie.

Chapter One

Texas, 1880

“It’ll be slow going to Huntsville, boys, with me trussed up like last year’s Christmas goose,” Sam Houston Winter said, lifting his shackled wrists as evidence of his hindered movement.

Toby Jenkins and Ed Herman, the two deputies riding to his left and to his right respectively, exchanged quick glances and chuckles. The two had loosened their demeanor since they’d left Chariton and their boss, Sheriff Tom McMillan, behind a mile ago. Now Sam had to see whether he could convince the pair to loosen him.

“You sure take it on the chin, Sam,” Toby said, shaking his head. “Two years in the state prison ahead of you, and you still got a sense of humor.”

Ed laughed his wheezy laugh again in agreement with Toby. “Can’t say I’d be the same, if’n I was in your boots.”

“No, sir,” Toby said. “Though I think I would have done the same as you, Sam, if my brother was about to be hanged as a murderer.”

“You don’t have a brother, Toby,” Ed argued. He had to lean forward a little to see his sparring partner across Sam’s chest.

“No, but if’n I did, and if they was gonna hang him, then I’d do just what Sam did, and try to hide him.”

“Sure you would. I would, too,” Ed said. “But what I was just sayin’ was that I wouldn’t be laughin’ when the judge threw me in the clink for aidin’ a criminal.”

“I know that, Ed,” Toby said with irritation. “Wasn’t you listening? I was only sayin’ I’d do the same thing. Except for the sense-of-humor part,” he clarified. “Like you, I wouldn’t have no sense of humor about it, neither, like Sam here has.”

“No?” Ed asked, a wry smile on his tobacco stained lips. “Maybe that’s ’cause you never had one to begin with!”

The two threw back their heads in riotous, whooping laughter.

It was going to be an even longer ride than he’d imagined, Sam thought dismally. Yet the annoying duo steeled his determination to make a break for it.

“Anyway, it’s a shame we have to poke along like turtles on account of me,” Sam said, lifting his shoulders in a shrug after the two had tamped down their guffaws.

Ed’s face was sober for a blessed moment. “Sorry it has to be this way, Sam.”

“Me, too,” Toby said.

“Stupid rules. Me and Toby both know you wouldn’t swat a fly. You only did what you did — which wasn’t much, really—’cause Jesse was your brother.”

“Same as we would have done.”

Sam held his breath, dreading a repeat of their prior interchange, but the two seemed lost in thought. Serious thought, if the way Ed’s yellowed teeth sawed on his lower lip was any indication.

“You know, Toby,” Ed asked after a moment, “how is it that Sam’s all trussed up like so? It’s not like he was a murderer.”

“But he’s a prisoner, just the same.”

Ed nodded, as if he had forgotten this minor point. “That’s right, Sam. You are a prisoner. Much as I hate to say it.”

“Me, too,” Toby agreed.

“You sure play a hell of a game of poker, though,” Ed added as an afterthought.

Toby shook his head wistfully. During Sam’s weeks in Chariton’s tiny jail, the three of them had whiled away many a tedious hour over a worn deck.

Sometimes they’d even convinced Jesse to join in on a hand, but he’d never taken any pleasure in the game. Jesse was in mourning for Salina, his wife, the woman he’d been convicted of killing. For weeks, nothing had been able to keep him from brooding over his loss, not even his flight from the law, or his capture at Sam’s farm, or the hurried, hopeless trial that followed.

Sheriff McMillan, fueled by resentment toward Jesse after he’d testified against the sheriff’s son in a trial a year earlier, had seized on just enough evidence to convict Jesse. And he hadn’t been interested in any information that might contradict his desire to get his revenge, either. As for the rest of the town, most folks considered the crime so heinous, so shocking, they were eager for especially swift justice.

Sam frowned. Now Jesse was all alone in that cell, with no one to even attempt to take his mind off his troubles. He was sure Jesse didn’t even care that he faced the gallows in two weeks’ time. Jesse didn’t think he had much to live for, now that Salina was gone. But Sam wasn’t giving up so easily. In his pocket he had possible evidence of another man’s guilt—scant evidence that Tom McMillan, who only wanted a man to hang, wasn’t interested in pursuing.

Meanwhile, he waited patiently for Ed and Toby’s reasoning to progress to the next step.

“‘Course, it’s not like Sam’s a violent criminal, Ed,” Toby said. “Hidin’ somebody isn’t the same as killin’ somebody.”

Ed shook his head. “Nope. Fact, it’s practically the exact opposite.”

“Practically,” Toby agreed. “Sam here ain’t never even said a word against anybody. Not that I’ve heard.”

“Me neither.”

“He just done what anybody would have done.”

On this much, at least, the two seemed clear. Sam decided to give them a little mental shove. God knew, they needed it.

“Well, I suppose that’s just the way with the law,” he said nonchalantly. “If you start making exceptions...”

“Where would it end?” Toby finished for him.

“Why, sure.” Sam was silent a moment, then mused absently, “I wonder whether counterfeiters have to wear handcuffs”

Toby and Ed suddenly looked at each other, their eyes wide and almost alarmed, as if the unexpected question had mentally flummoxed them.

“I don’t know,” Toby said, his voice filled with wonder. “Do you know, Ed?”

“No, I sure don’t.”

“Counterfeiter. I ain’t never run across one of those.” Toby bit his lip and squinted in thought as he stared across the horizon. It was morning still, and the sun was just now beginning to beat down upon them. “I bet they do.”

“Bet so.” Ed frowned. “But then again, maybe they don’t.”

“Funny thing is,” Toby said, “Sam here is even less dangerous than a counterfeiter, when you think about it.”

“He’s not even a thief or anything like that.”

“Hell no. He’s just a brother-hider.”

“I mean, who’s he hurt?”

“Nobody I know of.”

The two looked at each other again, communicating silently over Sam’s shoulders.

“And if somebody like a counterfeiter doesn’t have to be tied up, then why should Sam?”

“You got me stumped,” Ed declared.

“Whoa there, boys,” Sam said graciously, hoping the triumphant surge he felt didn’t show in his face. They weren’t even three miles out of town yet. This was too easy. “I don’t want to get you in trouble with your boss man.”

“With Sheriff Tom?” Ed asked incredulously.

“Why, Tom trusts us!” Toby protested, as if the idea itself were plumb crazy.

“Would he have let us take you all the way to Huntsville by our lonesome if he didn’t trust us to use our, you know...”

“Discretion?” Sam prompted.

“Sure, that’s it,” Toby said. “We’d just be using our discretion. It’s not like you would try to escape.”