The next morning, Donovan sat at his father’s desk, an open ledger and his coffee mug at his fingertips. The words and numbers on the lined pages may as well have been written in Latin for all he was getting out of it.

He couldn’t focus. Every time he tried, his mind wandered back to last night.

Last night. His wedding night. The best damn night of his life!

Rachel had been so receptive, so willing, so responsive. Sure, she’d had her moments of uneasiness. What virgin wouldn’t, but she’d trusted him to guide her through.

She’d completely, blindly trusted him. Him, the notorious outlaw Donnie Langley.

She’d made him feel ten feet tall and bulletproof.

Only he wasn’t really who she trusted. She’d put her faith in Sullivan, the man she’d fallen in love with. Not the man pretending to be Sullivan. Not him.

Donovan sighed and picked up his coffee mug.

He needed to remember who Rachel truly loved. It would make it easier to keep his emotions in check. Yes, he hoped to love her in time. But he could never allow himself to fall in love with her.

His past would always loom over him. Maybe not today, or next week, or next year, or Hell, maybe not in the next twenty years, but there was always a chance the law could come knocking on his front door.

And if that day came, he’d be running out the back door before God got the news—without a woman in tow. If he hesitated—if he took the time to convince Rachel to go with him—he’d be behind bars for so long, he’d be old, broken, and only a shell of a man when he got out.

Donovan banged his fist against the desktop and growled.

Damn it! He’d go out in a blaze of glory rather than get caged behind bars for even an hour, much less the rest of his life.

A movement in the doorway caught Donovan’s attention.

Rachel, wearing a pale-yellow day dress, stood just inside the office entry. Her hair, pulled up in a loose bun with soft ringlets falling around her face, glowed in the morning light filtering through the window pane. “Spun gold in sunshine,” he remembered telling her last night. He hadn’t exaggerated.

Rachel Langley was beautiful. And she was his.

Donovan silently chastised himself for his dangerous thoughts. He couldn’t allow himself to get too attached to his wife.

“I hope that scowl across your face wasn’t caused by something I did,” she teased as she stepped farther into the room.

“Of course not,” he replied as he started to stand.

She waved him back into his chair as she sat across the desk from him. “Please, sit down. I’m only going to be a minute and then I’ll leave you to your ledgers.”

He nodded and sat back in his seat, thankful she’d insisted. Just the sight of her, the sound of her voice, had him hard—again.

They’d made love twice during the night and again as the sun rose outside their bedroom window. He hadn’t thought she might be tender after being with a man for the first time until after he’d left her dozing in their bed earlier this morning. Then he’d felt like a selfish heel.

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked.

She blushed. “Fine. And you?”

Relief washed over him. He hadn’t, albeit unintentionally, hurt her. He winked. “Extremely happy.”

Rachel’s blush darkened from pale pink to bright red. After a moment, she asked, “I was wondering about my trunks. Do you know when we might retrieve them from Papa’s?”

“I sent a couple of hands into town earlier to pick them up. They should be back within the hour.”

“Thank you.” She stood and headed toward the door then paused, turned and walked to him.

He cocked a questioning eyebrow at her.

Leaning forward, she kissed his cheek and whispered, “And thank you for last night. You were more patient, kind, and gentle than I ever would have expected.”

Donovan cupped her face between his hands and kissed her. “And you, my sunshine, are more…everything…than I expected.”

Rachel stepped back. “You need to get back to your ledgers and I’m going to see if Nessa needs any help with lunch.”

He swallowed a groan as he watched her leave the office.

Mentally, he mortared another brick on the wall around his heart. He just hoped to Hell it stayed there.

* * *

A week later, Donovan handed Rachel a steaming cup of coffee just the way she liked it. A teaspoon of sugar, a splash of milk, and in bed.

“Keep this up and soon I’ll never want to get out of bed,” she playfully reprimanded, not a drop of malice in her tone, and reached for the mug he offered.

“I can live with that,” he chuckled as he sat on the mattress, facing her.

She giggled over the top of her mug. “That wasn’t an invitation.”

“Dang,” he teased and watched her savor her first sip of coffee.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Perfect.”

Donovan gulped a big swig of hot coffee. It burned all the way down, but at least it prevented him from telling her how perfect he thought she was.

A week’s worth of cozy evenings in front of the fireplace, followed by nights of the best sex he’d ever had, had turned his mind to mush. Every morning, he had to shore-up the wall around his heart. And every morning it got harder to do.

“Sullivan?” Rachel asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Are you all right?”

“Coffee was hotter than I expected.” Leaning back on his one elbow, he hoped he looked more nonchalant than he felt. He needed to start spending more time away from Rachel—without it looking like he was dodging her. “I’m going into town this morning.”

She looked at him, her eyes partly pleading—partly enthusiastic.

“Would you like to come?”

Well, Hell. He opened his mouth, and the words fell out before he could stop them. “Yes.”

So much for avoiding his wife.

She almost knocked him off the bed in her hurry to get up. “I’ll be ready in thirty minutes.”

“Take your time.” He laughed as he wiped at the coffee stain spreading across his chest. “I need to change shirts then talk to Nessa before we leave.”

Rachel grabbed her hair brush. “Are you picking up supplies?”

“Not that I know of. I need to clarify something with Mr. Roker at the bank.”

Old man Jackson’s comment about the banker’s wish someone would take Sullivan down a notch had been nagging at him. Now that things had settled a bit, and he felt more confident in his portrayal as his twin brother, he wanted to look into Roker’s malcontent.

“Could we ride in then?” Rachel continued to glide her brush through her hair. “Horses would be faster than a buggy.”

Donovan grinned. “Homesick?”

“Maybe a little bit.” She glanced at him through her vanity mirror. “I’ve never been a whole week without talking to Papa.”

“Then that will be our first stop.” He crossed to the bureau, retrieved a clean shirt, and put it on. “Now, hurry up and get dressed before I change my plans and decide to spend the day in bed with you instead.”

Rachel double-timed her brush through her hair. “Yes, sir!”

“Yes, sir, what? Going into town or spending the day in bed?” he teased.

She tossed a saucy wink his way as she quickly braided her hair. “Whatever pleases you.”

“Don’t tempt me, woman,” he chuckled a warning as he left the room.

* * *

Four hours later, Rachel and Becky sat inside Sarah’s, the best café in town. They were seated at a table in front of the window. Rachel hadn’t realized how much she loved the hustle and bustle of New Dawn Springs until she wasn’t there anymore. Not that she didn’t like living at the Legacy, she did. But sometimes, she got lonely.

“I’m surprised I’ve got you all to myself,” Becky said, pulling Rachel out of her thoughts.

“Sullivan thought I might like to have lunch with just us girls. He has business at the bank. He said he may join us for pie and coffee later.”

“I meant your father,” Becky clarified.

“Oh. Sullivan and I visited with Papa for about an hour before he got called out to the livery. One of the Arnold’s neighbors came in to say Blackie was threatening his wife again. Not that he’s ever hit Trudy, but the neighbor was concerned enough to come fetch Papa.”

“Blackie and Trudy Arnold should have never married.”

“I agree.” Rachel sipped her tea.

“I can’t imagine being stuck in a bad marriage.” Becky placed her napkin in her lap. “Speaking of, how’s Sullivan?”

Rachel didn’t take offense at her friend’s thinly veiled insult. She’d been expecting it and was too happy to let it bother her. Eventually, Becky would come to see what kind of man Sullivan really was. Kind, loving, and gentle.

“Wow,” Rachel laughed. “You held out of whole twenty minutes before you took a jab at my husband. I didn’t know you had that much restraint.”

Becky bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Rach. I just worry about you is all.”

Rachel laid her hand over Becky’s and squeezed. “I’m fine, I promise. Sullivan is a thoughtful, caring man.”

Becky’s head lifted. “Really? But rumor has it—”

“He is not that man, I swear. Give him a chance. Get to know him. You’ll see.”

Just then, their lunch arrived. Rachel leaned back to give the waitress room to place her plate of fried chicken—and spotted the Widow Sewell glaring at her from two tables over.

Or maybe Sullivan wasn’t that man anymore, she corrected herself. Mrs. Sewell seemed to have a strong dislike for the new Mrs. Langley.

Becky shot a sidewise glance to see what held Rachel’s attention then sighed. “Don’t mind that hussy. Nancy down at the dry goods store said Widow Sewell has been meaner than a grizzly fresh out of hibernation all week.”

“She does look a little bearish.” Rachel grinned, determined not to let anyone spoil her time in town. “What else does Nancy have to say? I know you’re dying to tell me.”

“Well, let’s see,” Becky took a bite of mashed potatoes then continued, “the first couple days after you left, the town was a buzz about your wedding. You know, you don’t hide your feelings very well.”

“Really? I thought I’d done a very good job of concealing my irritation.”

“Yeah, well, not so much. I think it was your stomping down the aisle that gave you away. And when he kissed your hands before the ceremony ever started, that had women from ten to seventy swooning. Expect me, of course.”

“Of course,” Rachel agreed, hiding her grin behind her napkin.

Becky paused to cut into her chicken. “Who was the man sitting behind your father at the wedding?”

Rachel had to think a moment before answering, “Mr. Sam Carter, an associate of Papa’s. Why?”

“He was at the dry goods store yesterday asking a lot of questions. I was there talking to Nancy when he came in.”

Talking meaning gossiping, Rachel thought, but kept her comment to herself. “Asking about what?”

“Mainly Sullivan. About his behavior lately. If he seemed different in any way.” Becky dabbed her napkin at the corners of her mouth. “From what I hear, that man…er, Mr. Carter has been asking all over town about your husband.”

After a moment’s thought, Rachel confided in her best friend. “Mr. Carter is a Pinkerton man looking for Sullivan’s brother Donovan.”

“I’d forgotten Sullivan had a brother.” Becky gasped, her eyes widening. “An identical twin brother!”

Rachel inwardly groaned. Her best friend was about to go down a rabbit hole—and she’d have to go in after her.

Becky leaned forward over the small table between them and whispered, “What if Donovan is posing as Sullivan? What if he killed his brother and took over his life?”

Yep, down the rabbit hole Becky went.

“Don’t be silly. Things like that only happen in those dime novels you like to read.”

“But it would explain some of Mr. Carter’s questions.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” Becky leaned in even closer than she was, “has Sullivan gotten any of his facts wrong lately. Or forgotten what he did or said a couple weeks ago. I thought he was questioning Sullivan’s mental capacities, but maybe not.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Rachel looked around the café to see if anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation. “Becky, please, don’t mention this to others. It would embarrass me and my husband.”

“I would never repeat something that might hurt you.” Becky held up her hand to silence Rachel’s thanks. “But I’m telling you, there’s something fishy going on here.”

* * *

Mr. Roker smiled as he held his office door open for Donovan. “Sullivan, it’s good to see you. Come on in.”

“I won’t take up too much of your time.” Donovan nodded and headed for the seat across from Roker’s desk.

He heard the door shut. Not all that unusual. Most people insisted on privacy when discussing financial business.

And then the click of the door’s lock pinged across the small office. That raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

Roker didn’t say a word until he seated himself across from Donovan. His expression had changed from welcoming to furious in the small distance between the door and his desk. He leaned forward slightly and grumbled, “What the Hell do you want, Langley?”

Donovan caught himself before he flinched against the venom in Roker’s words. What was going on? No banker would ever use that tone of voice in a business setting, especially to the son of the biggest rancher within a hundred miles. And probably the bank’s biggest depositor.

Oh, yeah, something was definitely amiss here.

Donovan shrugged his shoulder. “I just came by to chitchat.”

“Who do you want me to ruin this time?” Roker grunted through gritted teeth. Then he slammed his fist against his desktop. “You know what, Langley? Don’t answer that. I’m done being your puppet.”

“My puppet, huh?” Donovan crossed his right ankle over his left knee then fingered his pant leg crease as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

There was a time for questions and then there were times to just sit back and listen. This was the time to listen. Roker had built up a head of steam and obviously found his backbone. The banker wasn’t going to clam up on him now. Donovan would let the man rant. Hopefully, he’d fill in some blanks while he was doing it.

“I’ve ruined three men’s lives in the last six months solely on your whims. Well, I’m done letting you tell me when to grant a loan and when to deny one. Jackson was the last. I mean it.”

Holy shit, Donovan thought. What had he stepped into?

“Yes, I made a grave error in judgement last year,” Roker continued, “but I’ve paid every penny back. I rue the day I went to you for help. Sometimes I think I’d been better off if the auditors had discovered my greed. At least, I wouldn’t have been under your thumb.”

Embezzlement. The asshole had embezzled from the bank and had gone to Sullivan to bail him out. Now he didn’t like the “interest” his brother was charging on his investment.

Donovan wasn’t sure what to do. He couldn’t just up and bail out of the arrangement without raising questions he didn’t want to answer. But he damned sure didn’t want any part of this deal either.

Before Donovan could decide what to do next, Roker leaned back in his chair and glared across his desk. He studied Donovan—hard, then nodded his chin ever so slightly.

Yep, Donovan thought, the man had finally figured a way out of his mess. Donovan just hoped it was something he was willing to live with.

Roker stroked his jaw then said, “As of this moment, our illicit association is over. If you go to the sheriff with what you know, I’ll press blackmail charges against you. If you withdrawal your family’s funds from this bank, I’ll press blackmail charges.”

“Now who’s blackmailing whom?” Donovan hid his grin. There was more to the crooked banker than he’d realized.

“Then file charges against me. See how that works out for you.” Roker stood, then paused. “Do you think they put embezzlers and blackmailers in the same cell?” He laughed as he moved to his locked office door. “Wouldn’t that be interesting?”

“Indeed,” Donovan agreed as he stood to leave.

Roker opened the door, grinning. “Good day, Mr. Langley.”

“Good day, Mr. Roker.”

Donovan walked out of the bank, deep in thought. He had one more stop to make, collect his wife and then hightail it home.

He and Nessa needed to have a heart-to-heart talk.