Jillian Hart by Maclain's Wife Page A

you're bound by duty to follow every step I take."
    "I'm not following you. I'm protecting you."
    How deep his voice, rumbling and sexy. She shivered, and then she realized inviting Ben to spend time with her was a bad idea. She may have accepted his domestic offer, but that didn't mean she liked it.
    "Protecting me? You're the man who threw me in jail, MacLain." She stepped inside, leaving him to catch the door as it slapped toward his chest.
    The busy sounds of the saloon felt like home. The sharp jangle of glass, the din of men arguing and gambling, the tinny tunes of the piano rising above it all, cheerful and friendly. She could practically taste the beer that scented the air.
    "After I saw you with Emily, I knew what I did was right." Ben tugged out a chair and dropped into it.
    She looked at him a moment, then chose another table. "I like to face the door."
    "I should have known." Ben stood, resigned, just as a scantily clad woman sauntered near, bending over to take his order and show him an exceptional amount of cleavage.
    To his credit, Ben turned pink from his chin to his hairline. He muttered something, his strong sheriffs demeanor belying the blush on his face. He placed an order and Polly watched, amused. He acted like a man unbowed by anything.
    Except the blush still stained his face.
    "Did she make you an offer? Maybe you might want to consider blackmailing her with jail." Polly reached into her reticule and pulled out a packet of thin papers. She spread them out on the small table's sticky surface.
    "You smoke?"
    "Now and then. I practically grew up in saloons. When my father wasn't working, he spent his time drinking and gambling." Polly tapped fragrant tobacco out of its pouch. "Those memories aren't the best, but they are the best ones I have. Sometimes one of the working girls would take pity on me and make sure I was fed and had a safe place to sleep. One even taught me how to play the piano."
    "You play?"
    "It's been a long time, but yes." She tucked the pouch back into her reticule and rolled the cigarettes with the tips of her fingers. She handed Ben one.
    "What did your father do?" Ben's fingers brushed hers as he took the cigarette. "Something tells me he wasn't a bartender."
    "You know he was an outlaw." Polly struck a match. "Roy Brown, leader of the notorious Brown gang."
    Ben's jaw tensed. "The man wanted in six territories?"
    Polly blew a ring of smoke. "He's a tough man. I ran away from him when I was sixteen. I'd been trying for years, but it was the first time I succeeded."
    Ben's face shadowed. He lit his cigarette and wouldn't look at her. "Roy Brown's daughter."
    "I thought you knew, since you had that wanted poster in hand."
    But he hadn't known, she guessed, and now it changed how he looked at her. She'd gone from beautiful belle to bounty hunter to being a vicious outlaw's offspring. Ben's opinion of her must be so low it was slithering below ground.
    The saloon girl swirled by with two drinks on a tray. She leaned over Ben and batted her eyes, offering more than just the draft
    Polly looked at the glass. "What the heck is this?"
    "Sarsaparilla." Ben was blushing again.
    "Bring me a beer."
    "You're my fiancée. I don't want you drinking spirits. You're an upstanding lady." Ben's gaze pleaded with her.
    She stared hard at the soft drink. "Bring me a good draft."
    The serving woman shrugged, snatched up the glass, and sauntered away with a generous sway of her hips. Ben didn't look, but he was still blushing.
    "I've tried hard to be what you want. I've put up with you watching my every move and always expecting the worst. I've worn dresses and played with your daughter and tried to be presentable enough."
    "You don't like playing with Emily?" He challenged, suddenly hard as rock.
    "That's not what I said." She thanked the waitress for