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Beloved Outcast
Pat Tracy
The Wagons Went West - Without Her, but nothing could stop Victoria Amory from pursuing her "great adventure." Not even a reprobate like Logan Youngblood, whose lazy-lidded gaze and lopsided grin dared her to do things that should have made her blush - but didn't!The minute Victoria Amory let him out of the stockade, Logan Youngblood knew he was looking at Trouble with a capital T. This Boston-bred bluestocking had hair that glistened like an autumn leaf and eyes so bright, they shamed the sun out of the sky. Yep. She was Trouble - of the marrying kind!
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u55b70a46-30cf-5dd4-bb2e-3176fe6c6eae)
Excerpt (#u099f8aae-295f-510f-881f-2a151e077f6c)
Dear Reader (#u0a20e814-f7b0-51a0-a855-d565ea542f7c)
Title Page (#u4d46d871-ec2c-558d-801f-3548260d09f4)
About The Author (#ue00fdc90-9d00-5130-9169-e9d0b278cc7d)
Dedication (#ud9e19cdb-35e1-5147-b6c4-6b0d408acb66)
Acknowledgments (#u47d0d448-ebae-5319-8b9f-8aece0934244)
Chapter One (#ub3970363-e963-5409-9f74-39d146fa2087)
Chapter Two (#ub95607c4-a346-5063-8709-062ed87372cf)
Chapter Three (#u6fdb4dc6-df0c-5859-bf22-5a3afddc0826)
Chapter Four (#uf408c3f4-5ae7-5cf6-bcaa-b298dbd2de31)
Chapter Five (#u7ca7afa5-9fbe-54bb-b56b-2757cab0f83e)
Chapter Six (#ub5be9dd7-58ec-5c83-abae-0c5604822667)
Chapter Seven (#u4fe26387-231a-5ada-ae84-1c78e13e8ca7)
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)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“You are no gentleman!
“For, If you were, you would know emphatically I am not the kind of female to invite or enjoy a man’s.”
Victoria’s words dwindled. It really was rather tricky to phrase her thoughts and not be.crude.
“A man’s…” Logan prompted, raising one dark eyebrow.
She met his speculative gaze and detected an abundance of silent laughter. She wanted to hurl the heavy book she cradled at him, but there was the matter of the ax.
“A man’s physical attentions,” she said through gritted teeth. “I may be the first one you’ve ever met, but let me assure you I am a lady.”
“Well, then.”
“Well, then, what?” she fairly snarled at him.
“Who would have guessed ladies could be so hotblooded?”
She flinched. “If my blood is hot, it’s because you have the capacity to make me angrier than anyone I’ve ever met…!”
Dear Reader,
Beloved Outcast by Pat Tracy is a dramatic Western about an Eastern spinster who is hired by a man with a notorious reputation to tutor his adopted daughter. And those of you who have read Pat Tracy would probably agree with Affaire de Coeur when they recently labeled Pat as “one author definitely worth watching.” This talented author just keeps getting better and better.
Whether writing atmospheric Medievals or sexy Regencies, Deborah Simmons continues to delight readers with her romantic stories. In this month’s Maiden Bride, the sequel to The Devil’s Lady, Nicholas de Laci transfers his blood lust to his enemy’s niece, Gillian, his future wife by royal decree. Don’t miss this wonderful tale.
Fans of Romantic Times Career Achievement Award winner Veronica Sattler will be thrilled to see this month’s reissue of her Worldwide Library release, Jesse’s Lady.
We hope you’ll enjoy this exciting story of a young heiress and her handsome guardian. And our fourth book this month is The Wager by Sally Cheney, the story of a young Englishwoman who reluctantly falls in love with a man who won her in a game of cards. 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
Beloved Outcast
Pat Tracy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
PAT TRACY
lives in a farming community outside of Idaho Falls. Pat’s love of historical romance began when she was thirteen and read Gone with the Wind. After reading Rhett and Scarlett’s story, Pat immediately penned a hasty sequel wherein the couple lived happily ever after. According to Pat, there is a magic to be found in historical romances that can be found nowhere else, and she enjoys reading the many popular and talented writers who share that magic with their readers. You can write to the author at the following address:
P.O. Box 17
Ucon, Idaho 83454
This book is dedicated to Sheriann Tracy, my youngest
daughter, who is funny, smart, brave, strong-willed,
independent, athletic, artistic and beautiful.
Sweetheart, you’re definitely heroine material.
Mother’s Note: A couple of months after this
dedication was written, Sheriann was killed in an
automobile accident. She was fourteen. Darling, you
have my heart—always. Love, Mom
* * * * * *
Acknowledgments: (#ulink_ccd0230a-bc03-5259-a256-16d90ff25ceb)
I would like to thank Sherry Roseberry, Vicki Scaggs and Martha Tew, gifted writers and true friends. Without your generous editing efforts, I would look sooo foolish. (I’m thinking particularly of my hero being “within” instead of “without.”) And thank you, Patti McAllister, for your last-minute read of the final version. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Chapter One (#ulink_4c250fb6-ba98-53f0-9813-8ccf1a45e90d)
Idaho Territory, 1868
“Sit down, Youngblood.”
Logan Youngblood stared at the army-issue revolver pointed at his chest. “Somehow this isn’t quite the welcome I expected, Colonel Windham.”
The mustached cavalry officer gestured with the Remington’s barrel toward the chair that faced his desk. “By your own account, you rode for two days and a night to warn us about the fort being attacked. Surely you could do with a rest.”
The only outward evidence of the colonel’s displeasure, other than the drawn weapon, was reflected in his cold blue eyes.
Logan glanced at the other three uniformed men present. They were young lieutenants, dressed in pristine dark blue uniforms trimmed with enough newly minted gold braid to make a dead man stand up and salute. From their uneasy expressions, though, he could tell they were baffled by their commanding officer’s behavior.
Logan moved toward the waiting chair. Until he found out what was going on, he would accept Windham’s not-sogracious hospitality. Unexpectedly, Logan’s thoughts turned to Madison, and what would happen to her, should the gun barrel he was staring down serve its intended purpose.
But then, Madison’s tumultuous arrival in his life seemed to herald the beginning of a series of complications, not the least of which was the necessity of securing a qualified woman to educate the twelve-year-old girl.
“Wait a minute,” the colonel ordered tersely. “Take his gun, Lawson.”
“Sir?” the young soldier queried, as if he weren’t sure he understood the order.
“You heard me.”
Logan stood perfectly still as the Colt.44 he’d taken to wearing since coming west was extracted from his holster. He didn’t know what Windham was up to, but he was fairly certain the officer wouldn’t shoot him in front of three witnesses.
Logan claimed the proffered chair.
“Tie him up,” came the next tight-lipped command.
Logan shot to his feet. “Enough is enough, Windham. I came here to warn you that several tribes are planning to attack. Now that I’ve done that, I’m going to ride out of here and—”
The ominous click of a service revolver being cocked interrupted Logan. His attention again focused on the drawn gun.
“I don’t like Indian-lovers, Youngblood. As far as I’m concerned I’d be doing the entire territory a favor by killing you where you stand. Unfortunately, because I am civilized, I have to obey the law. So, by the letter of that law, I’m placing you under military arrest for abetting murderous redskins. Now sit the hell down!”
The revolver’s nine-inch barrel remained steady. With four armed soldiers against one unarmed civilian, the odds weren’t exactly in his favor. Still, having survived countless Civil War battles and his first few hazardous months in the Idaho Territory, Logan felt reasonably calm. He couldn’t see his life ending in this room. He was grateful, however, as he eased onto the chair, that he hadn’t put off seeing to Madison’s future. Thank God his good friend and associate Martin Pritchert had already made arrangements to bring a tutor from the East to instruct the uneducated girl. Since she was now legally Logan’s ward, she would be cared for no matter what happened to him. For the time being, Martin’s wife was watching over Madison.
It took all the self-discipline Logan possessed for him to submit to having his hands tied behind the back of the chair while another length of rope was secured around his ankles.
“Your time has run out, Youngblood.” Windham pushed his face an inch from Logan’s. “I want to know where those murdering savages are camped, and I want to know now.”
Logan stared into Windham’s unyielding features. Somehow, even though he suspected the military man was beyond reasoning with, Logan had to convince him that not all Indians were “murdering savages.”
“Night Wolf’s people are at peace,” he pointed out flatly. “They had nothing to do with attacking the families on that wagon train, and they won’t have any part of assaulting the fort.”
Windham turned his back to Logan and, with careful deliberateness, laid his gleaming revolver upon the desk. Then, without warning, the officer spun around and plowed his fist into Logan’s jaw.
The chair he’d been tied to scraped stridently against the wood-planked floor. Logan’s head shot back, but the pain was tolerable. Windham didn’t pack much of a punch, which was true of most small men wrapped in gold-spangled uniforms.
“That was the wrong answer, Youngblood.”
Through a dull haze of pain, Logan noticed a loop of spittle hanging from the colonel’s curled upper lip. The frozen image of a mad dog Logan had seen once as a boy in Scotland danced briefly in his thoughts. Yet Windham’s manner remained eerily calm.
“It’s the only answer I’ve got.” Logan’s gaze went to the three other men in Windham’s office. Each soldier wore a look of distaste. Logan didn’t know whether their grim expressions were a result of their commanding officer’s violent behavior or Logan’s refusal to provide them with directions to Night Wolf’s camp.
