A week after Donovan found Sullivan’s journal, it still weighed heavily on his mind.

At the time of Rachel’s injury, he’d been sure someone had been shooting at him, but now he wasn’t so certain. They had been passionately kissing while he unbuttoned her bodice. It was obvious they were about to make love. Well, until the damned rattlesnake had interrupted them. Still, an onlooker, a jealous-crazed onlooker, might have been aiming at Rachel and not him.

Donovan scanned the horizon as he neared Reaper’s Ravine, his horse trotting at a steady gait. During the night as he watched Rachel sleep, he pledged to protect his wife at any cost. Even lowering himself to Sullivan’s level. Blackmail.

First thing this morning, he’d talked to Nessa and found out who Loretta Sewell was and where she lived. Now, he was on his way to town to have a forthcoming conversation with the Widow Sewell.

He intended to explain that their relationship was over. He’d tell her he still had her letter where she’d threatened to kill Rachel. Then promise to go to the authorities with letter in hand if even one hair on her head came to harm. As the scene played in his head, he envisioned his parting words, “I’d keep my wife’s good health in my prayers, if I were you.”

Suddenly, a shot rang out, jerking him back to reality.

A plume of dirt and rock exploded inches in front of him. His horse reared, pawed at empty air, causing them to turn toward the ravine. Donovan barely regained control before he and his horse plummeted over the edge.

Donovan didn’t take time to search for the shooter. He was a sitting duck in the open like he was. He headed for cover on the ranch end of the ravine.

Ducking behind a tree, gun drawn, he scanned the area for any movement that might show the shooter’s location. Nothing. No, the shooter was long gone or burrowed in the bush and wasn’t coming out until Donovan was gone.

When he was sure—well, pretty sure—it was safe to step away from the cover of the tree line, he remounted and headed back to the Legacy. No use going into New Dawn Springs now. This last attempt was definitely aimed at him.

As he came upon the site where his buggy axle had gouged a gash into the road, it reminded him to inspect the wheel and broken axle when he got back to the barn. But something told him he already knew what he’d find. Tampering.

Yep, someone wanted Sullivan Langley dead. And the list was long.

Suddenly, a thought hit Donovan so hard, he almost lost his breath. What if Sullivan’s death wasn’t a suicide?

* * *

Enough was enough, Rachel thought as she readied for bed. She’d been asking Sullivan questions about their past—as in, remember when we…—for over a week. Sullivan only nodded or made vague comments or changed the subject completely. So, now it was time to change her strategy.

Tonight, she was going to feed him false information and see if he corrected her…or not.

As he had every night since they’d married two weeks ago, Sullivan stepped into their bedroom shirtless, barefooted with a damp towel draped around his neck. And like every night, a current of heat surged through her.

Dang it, even with the heavy weight of foreboding doubt pressing against her heart, she still wanted him.

Sullivan moved to stand behind her as she sat in front of her dressing table brushing her hair. After a moment, he bent and placed a tender kiss on her wounded shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. The doctor said another week wearing the sling, and I’d be back to normal.”

“Thank God there were no broken bones. It could have been much worse.”

Rachel put down her brush, stood, and turned to face him. Immediately, his arms encircled her waist, holding her tightly against his chest.

“I don’t know what I’d done if I’d lost you.”

Was he about to lose her now? she wondered.

She braced herself for the next few minutes and what they might bring.

Laying her palm over his jawline, she smiled. “Don’t worry, Sully, I’m going to be fine.”

His jaw clenched then relaxed against her hand almost in the same heartbeat. “Sully, huh?”

One time while they’d been courting, she’d called him “Sully,” hoping to relieve the tense formality of their rapport. The man had vehemently demanded she never address him as such again, informing her the nickname was below his station in society.

Yes, he’d reacted now, but just barely. Not the full-blown temper tantrum she’d expected. Maybe he didn’t want to upset her while she recovered from the shooting. Maybe he’d remind her of his preference after she healed.

“I thought since you have a nickname for me, I should have one for you. Do you mind?” she nudged.

“My brother used to taunt me with the name Sully when we were kids.” Sullivan shook his head. “But I like the way it sounds when you say it. All sweet and honeyed with a hint of your Irish accent that slips out every once in a while.”

She sighed in disappointment. She’d neither confirmed nor disproved her doubts. She’d have to continue her covert interrogation.

“Sully?” she purred as he leaned into her and nuzzled her neck.

“Hmm?” he answered, his lips not breaking contact along her neck and good shoulder.

“I’ve been meaning to apologize for my behavior during our first date. I tend to babble when I’m nervous. You couldn’t get a word in edgewise.” In reality, Sullivan had completely dominated their conversation during their lunch at Sarah’s Café. He’d talked about his time away at college, his current pursuits and his heady goals for his future. She, on the other hand, hadn’t said ten words through the whole meal.

“You were quite the chatterbox.” He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to their bed. “Kind of like now.”

Was he being sarcastic? Or just didn’t know any better?

He gently laid her onto the turned-down bed and kissed her forehead then stepped back, dropped his pants and crawled in beside her. When he reached for her, she went willingly into his arms.

Sighing, he stroked his fingertips up and down her upper arm. “This is my favorite part of the day.”

“Mine too,” she murmured against his bare chest.

They settled into a comfortable silence. Sullivan seemed deep in thought which allowed her a moment with own thoughts.

She wanted to trust her husband. She wanted to have a happily-ever-after with her husband. But first and foremost, she wanted to know the truth about her husband.

Sullivan’s hypnotic strokes slowed.

Rachel sneaked a peek through her lashes to verify Sullivan was still awake. It was now or never.

“Donovan?” she whispered.

His strokes never wavered. “Hmm?”

“When did you trade out with Sullivan?”

* * *

Sweet Jesus! Every muscle in his body flinched taut with fear.

How? How had he slipped up? What had he said?

Not that it mattered. She’d figured him out.

He took one look at Rachel’s set jaw, blue fury sparking from her eyes and the waves of loathing rolling over her body and he knew there was no need in denying the truth. “Rachel, I…”

“Do not lie to me.” Rachel scrambled out of bed as best she could with one arm in a sling. “When?”

Donovan braced himself. Things were heading south—fast. “Almost a week before we married.”

Her eyes widening in…shock? “We? We married? I’m really Mrs. Donovan Langley.”

“No, you’re Rachel Langley, the most beautiful, honest woman I know. So, I completely understand why you’re having an issue with the situation.” Donovan reassured as he jerked his leg into his pants.

“An issue?” Rachel laughed, but it held no humor. “In the eyes of the law and church I’m married to you, outlaw at large.”

“No, you married Sullivan, a jackass and fool. All the papers say so, all the guests at the wedding will verify, and the preacher signed the marriage license stating he wedded Sullivan Langley to Rachel Hale.”

Silence pressed against the tense air around them. He could almost hear her thoughts as she processed what he’d just said.

After a long moment, she asked, “Where is Sullivan?”

Donovan sighed, knowing this was the beginning of the end for them. “He’s dead.”

She swayed slightly, almost as though his words had physically hit her. He moved toward her but stopped when he saw fear in her eyes.

“Get out!”

“For God’s sake, Rachel, I won’t hurt you.”

“Get out now!”

Donovan sighed and left. Hopeful she’d listen to his explanation later. But he doubted it.

He’d had almost three weeks of happiness. That was three more weeks than he deserved.