Her Forbidden Gunslinger. Harper St. George

word, just often enough to make him listen for it. His gaze scanned the street, visibly as vigilant as he was supposed to be, but ravenously drinking up the sound of her voice.

      “Monsieur Sinclair, please, if someone could just take me home.”

      The hint of desperation in Sophie’s voice caught Gray’s attention. He turned his head slightly to see her standing just outside the closed terrace doors, pulling off her white gloves to fan herself with them. Sinclair stood before her, his back slightly blocking her, so that Gray had to move closer to hear the conversation.

      “It’s almost midnight. Supper will be served soon. Don’t you think eating something will make you feel better?” Sinclair was saying.

      “I just need to go home…please.”

      There was a moment of silence and then. “I’ll need to okay it with your uncle.”

      “Go to LaSalle. I’ll take her.” Gray heard himself offer. Sinclair was usually the one assigned to Sophie’s needs but, as the most trusted gunman, he had been ordered to attend a midnight meeting LaSalle had planned later that night with some important men in town for the ball.

      Sinclair looked over at him, a glimmer of relief on his face, and gave a nod of thanks. “Don’t be long, she’ll be okay with Brand at the house. We’ll need to talk after the meeting. You know about the safe?”

      Gray nodded and left to get the buggy, berating himself for volunteering. He was supposed to keep his distance. Cole could have been found at his post and dispatched to see her home.

      But there was no reason it shouldn’t be Gray. No one knew how badly he wanted her. No one knew that he dreamed at night of taking her over his horse and fleeing with her across the plains like his grandfather might have done. No one knew how very little was stopping him from doing just that.