Comanche Heart by Catherine Anderson

part of her still couldn’t believe he was there or how much he had changed. He had a relentless look now, a hard, cynical, bitter look that made her heart catch. Yet somehow, despite that, he was as handsome as always, but in a more potent, powerful, and unnerving way.
    Something else had changed about him, too, something far more recent and more subtle. Earlier today in the barn, when she’d pleaded with him to release her from her promises, he had looked uncertain. Now the uncertainty had vanished, replaced by a gleam of determination. Amy had the feeling that Swift and Hunter had talked about her out in Hunter’s lodge and that whatever had been said had somehow strengthened Swift’s resolve.
    “So, Uncle Swift, tell us about your gunfights,” Chase urged. “Is it true you’ve killed over a hundred men?”
    A sudden silence fell, amplifying the soft pling of fork tines scraping china. Broad shoulders rigid, Swift cleared his throat. “I think the stories about my gunfights have been exaggerated, Chase.” After a pause he added in a teasing tone, “I doubt I’ve killed more than ninety all together.”
    “Ninety? Boy!”
    Loretta fastened disapproving blue eyes on her son. “Chase, your uncle Swift is teasing you.”
    Chase’s face fell. “Then tell me true. How many?”
    Indigo elbowed her brother. “Don’t pester, Chase Kelly.”
    Swift’s gaze collided with Amy’s, and his smile tightened. “A man doesn’t notch his belt every time he has to draw on someone, Chase. I’ve pulled my gun when I was forced to, and then I tried to forget.”
    “But you are the fastest in Texas. The paper said so. Ain’t that right?”
    “Isn’t,” Loretta corrected.
    “There’s always someone who’s faster, Chase,” Swift replied. “If you forget that, even for an instant, you’re a dead man.”
    Chase nodded, clearly thrilled by the thought. “Now that you’re here, will you teach me to handle a gun?”
    Swift set his mug down with a decisive click. “No.”
    Indigo nudged her brother again, the seriousness of her expression making her seem far older than her thirteen years.
    Chase glowered at his sister, then shot Swift an imploring glance. “But why? I’m good with weapons.”
    Taut with tension, Amy waited to hear Swift’s reply.
    “Because it’s no way to live, that’s why.” A muscle twitched in Swift’s cheek. He laid his fork on the side of his plate, a large piece of ham left uneaten. “Trust me on that. If I could go back in time and never touch a six-shooter, I would.”
    Amy glanced over and saw that Loretta had tears in her eyes. Swallowing down nausea, Amy followed Swift’s example and set aside her fork, a part of her hating him for what he had become, another part as close to tears as Loretta. No one who looked could miss the haunted expression in Swift Lopez’s eyes.
    Hunter rose from the table and picked up his plate and mug. Carrying both to the dish counter, he said, “So tell me, Swift, what brought you out our way? And how long do you plan to stay?”
    “I came here hoping to make a new start.” Swift’s gaze slid to Amy again. “Discovering my woman alive is like a dream come true. I’ll be hanging my hat here, now that I’ve found her.”
    Another taut silence descended. Amy knew this was his way of letting everyone in the family know he hadn’t forgotten her betrothal promise to him and that he expected her to honor it. The battle lines were drawn. Her gaze dropped to the intimidating expanse of his chest, to the play of muscle under the sleeves of his shirt. She had the horrible feeling that the outcome of this particular war might be a foregone conclusion.
    Amy shoved back her chair. Keeping her face carefully blank, she began clearing the table, anxious to get the dishes washed. Chase hauled in water, which Loretta put on the stove to boil. Indigo, nearly as tall as her mother, drew an apron over her head and quickly tied the sash.
    “Amy, Indigo and I’ll