Somewhere in the Western Territories 1854

Carol rubbed her hands up and down her arms, feeling a chill despite the heat of the day. Marcus was dead and he was starting to smell. Three days she had been sitting here with the wagon. The Indians had killed Marcus and his body was riddled with arrows beneath the sheet she had used to cover him.

She had hidden in a secret compartment that Marcus had built in their wagon, knowing that Indian attacks were commonplace in this part of the country.

She had cried for the first two days after her husband of twenty years had been killed but now she had no tears left. She had cared for Marcus but the relationship was more out of duty than it was passion and love. They had no surviving children having lost three over the course of their marriage and he had had a stern hand and firm beliefs on how a wife should behave.

Carol knew that she would never let herself be tied down and controlled by another man like Marcus. That would prove to be a very easy thing to live by if she died of thirst out here. She took another sip out of the nearly empty canteen in her hand and then pushed the cork back in. Surely someone had to come along soon. The Indians had stolen all the livestock and Carol hadn't wanted to go wandering around on foot.

She had been munching on hard biscuits for the last couple of days and she was worried that she was going to lose her soft, voluptuous figure if she didn't get some real food soon. She wasn't really worried about her figure but after three days in the hot July sun she wasn't thinking very clearly and her brain had stopped having any serious thoughts at all.

She picked up a rock and threw it at the group of crows trying to land around Marcus's body. Poor Marcus. A hate filled, firm handed, strict, live by the book man in life was now a rotting, stinking, arrow filled corpse that would very soon be crow dung. She was sure he would find that unacceptable if he had any say in the matter.

She squeezed the angel figurine in her hand a little tighter. It was one of the only personal belongings that she had left. She hadn't been able to talk Marcus into letting her bring very many and the Indians had destroyed most of what she had brought.

This angel was her most prized possession. It had been a gift from her five year old daughter on the last Christmas that she had been alive before the fever had taken her tiny life.

Carol's eye lids were feeling gritty and heavy and so she decided to let them slip closed for a while. A small nap wouldn't hurt anything.

888

Duke saw the wagon in the distance and he saw the crows circling. Looks like them injuns had been at it again. Hopefully they'd left something valuable behind that he could take with him. He was running short on money and supplies and could use some things to sell.

The first thing he saw was the sheet covering what could only be an arrow riddled body judging by the way the sheet was sticking up in the air and a pair of boots were hanging out the end. He cursed under his breath. That meant someone had beat him here and there probably wasn't anything valuable left.

He guessed it still wouldn't hurt to just take a look. He led his large appaloosa stallion to the wagon and then jumped down to the ground. He climbed in the back of the wagon and began looking through the tossed around bloomers and dresses, stopping suddenly when he heard footsteps come to a stop at the opening behind him.

He looked over his shoulder and saw the most beautiful woman he had ever seen standing there with her hands on her soft hips. Her thin white cotton dress was dirty and sweat stained. The hoops and petticoats had been removed from beneath the skirt and as a result it hung loose and fit close to her body. .She had ripped the sleeves and collar from the dress to offer herself a bit more air in this heat and her skin was darkened from the sun. Her black hair hung limp beneath her wide straw hat and her blue eyes, nearly the color of the coldest winter ice, glared at him. She had her bow shaped lips narrowed into a thin line and the nostrils of her long thin nose were flared.

"What do you think you are doing, sir?" she demanded.

"Stealing from this here wagon." Duke replied with a shrug as he turned around to face her. "Belong to you?"

"Yes." the woman replied as she wrapped her arms tight around herself and eyed his walker colt model '47 fearfully. Duke offered her a smile though he knew this woman had good reason to fear him. He wanted her and he took what he wanted.

"That your man dead out there?"

"Yes." she replied before swallowing hard. "The Indians killed him three days ago."

"And you've just been sitting here?" Duke asked, wiping his sweaty face on his shirt sleeve.

"That's right." the woman said and then she frowned. "Will you take me to a town?"

"Sure." Duke said with a grin and he saw her step back and he knew she had recognized the gleam in his eyes.

Carol was suddenly certain she had made a mistake in letting this man know she was here and yet…

He was tall she could tell. Much taller than Marcus's five feet eight inches. He had a long rangy built like the outlaws and cowboys she had seen during her long trip across country with her husband. He was the complete opposite of Marcus in every way, physically. Marcus had been short and stocky and this man was long and lithe. Marcus had always been polished and proper. This man's clothes were wrinkled and dirty. His dark brown trousers, hugged his lean legs and waist. The gun belt around his hips was cracked and well used and the revolver in that holster looked well used as well. His stomach was flat beneath his stained, off-white, collared shirt and brown vest. He had a black bandana tied around his neck.

Above that neck was a face that made her heart pound at well over one hundred beats per minute. He was all sharp angles and edges. His chin was covered in dark black stubble and a mustache sat above his firm upper lip. Small pale scars covered his cheeks beneath the stubble. His nose was just a little too big as he looked down it at her with eyes that were such a dark brown they could be considered black.

There was something about this man that drew her in. Something about his sheer masculinity that drew her like a moth to a flame. Carol had never been impulsive in her life. Not because she hadn't had the urge but simply because she'd never been granted the opportunity. Suddenly here the opportunity was. Her controlling husband was dead, there was no one waiting on her or wondering where she was. She could run off and have a wild affair with this outlaw and no one would ever have to know.

Was she completely daft? She didn't know this man! For all she knew he could be imagining removing that knife from the sheath on his leg and slitting her throat… But then again she knew lust when she saw it and right now his face was dark with that particular emotion.

To allow his advances or to fight them, that was the question. Oh hell, why shouldn't she have a quick romp with a roaming outlaw? After all she was in her mid thirties and not getting any younger. Might as well have some fun while she still could.

Duke saw the change come over her face and it caused him to take a step back. This was unexpected. Instead of looking scared she suddenly looked determined and eager. He recovered quickly. If this voluptuous, beautiful woman was game then he was too and the best part was he wouldn't even have to pay the whore for her services.

He motioned for her to come into the wagon and as soon as she was close enough he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. He quickly knocked away her hat and buried one hand deep in her hair as his other hand quickly undid the buttons on the back of her dress. There was nothing gentle about his movements as he yanked on her hair to pull her head back so he could devour her neck.

Her throaty moans filled the air and Duke fought the urge to just toss her down and thrust himself inside of her. For some unexplainable reason he wanted to take his time with this soft bodied woman who seemed to have bewitched him with those icy blue eyes.

Carol moved her hands to his shirt and began to undo the buttons of his vest. She wanted to see what this man's skin would feel like beneath her hands. Skin that would no doubt be tight and smooth over his lean muscles.

Fire erupted in the tiny interior of the wagon and clothes were shed in a hurry. Kisses were hungry and touches were greedy. Neither gave a thing to the other, both just taking and taking and taking. As Duke laid her down on a bed of torn dresses he stared at her soft body and knew he had to have her now.

Their joining was anything but gentle but the woman didn't seem to mind as he nipped at her shoulders and took her as hard as he could. Never before had he gotten so lost in a woman. Her scent intoxicated him. Her fingertips felt like heated brands, marking him with every stroke of her fingers along his back. Her every moan simply made his passion and desire rise.

He felt himself falling over the edge as her cries of pleasure filled the wagon and he was helpless to do anything but cling to her body for dear life. It wasn't until his pulse ceased thundering in his ears that he realized he had just spilled his seed inside of her. That was something he had NEVER allowed himself to do with another woman. Mainly because he didn't want some brat showing up one day and saying 'hey pa, how ya doin?' but also because he knew what it was like to be a child without a family.

With disgust he pulled himself away from the woman and quickly donned his clothing.

Carol watched him quickly dress himself but she was helpless to do anything but lie there. Her entire body was limp and felt about as useless as a body had ever felt.

"Are you gonna lie there buck ass naked or are you gonna get up and put some clothes on so we can go?" he demanded sharply.

"Go?" Carol asked, finding that her mind seemed to have flown the coop. Though his mean tone had it heading back down to earth.

"You did want me to take you to town didn't you?" he demanded and she thought back. Had she wanted him to? Yes that's right she had. Right before she had lost her mind and decided to let the man take her right there inside a ransacked wagon with her husbands dead body drawing crows outside.

"Yes I did." she suddenly felt shy beneath his gaze that seemed to suddenly be so cold after being red hot moments ago. He turned and stomped out of the wagon, ramming his hat down over his thick black mane of hair as he went.

Carol hunted down some clean underclothes and dress. She decided against petticoats and hoops, deciding that since they would be riding double on horseback those things would just get in the way. The dress was light blue and the neckline was low cut leaving her shoulders revealed before forming long sleeves that were tight around her wrists. The satin bodice was tight and the skirt only slightly flared without her hoops. The ladies back east would disown her if they saw her looking so unkempt but to her it felt good. She didn't even bother securing her hair in a bun before grabbing the angel figurine from the floor and slipping it in her skirt pocket. Then she placed her hat back on her head and joined the man outside.

She found him standing beside the large gray spotted Appaloosa he had rode in on. He had a cigar hanging off his lip and looked very impatient as he stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

"You 'bout ready?" he demanded crossly and she nodded as she smoothed out her skirt.

"Do you have a shovel so we can bury his body?" she asked as she tilted her head toward Marcus's body.

"Why, outta respect?" the man asked with a snort. "You just bedded another man within throwing distance of his dead body and you moaned like a whore while doing it, I think he's just about as disrespected as a man could get."

Carol felt tears gathering behind her eyes but she forced them back. How could he be so mean? Minutes ago she had thought she'd been seeing and feeling something else as he had taken her to heaven right there in that wagon.

"Would you mind telling me your name?" she asked as he threw himself up into the saddle.

"Nope."

"So what is your name?" she asked with slight irritation as she waited for him to help her on as well.

"Duke." he said as he took her by the arm and hoisted her up behind him. She felt her body heat all over again being this close to him. What was wrong with her? Never had she felt this way for a man. Not even the man she'd been married and faithful to for twenty years.

"Nice to meet you, Duke."

"I think we're well past pleasantries." he replied with a snort and she bit her lip awkwardly. He sure wasn't going to make this easy.

"My name is Carol."

"Did I ask for your name?" he demanded and she shook her head, though he couldn't see the movement.

"No I guess you didn't." she replied. "Do you really think I'm a whore? Because I'll have you know I was a married and faithful wife for twenty years" she said matter of factly, feeling an unexplainable urge to defend her character.

"Why don't we agree to not talk until we make camp tonight? I like to ride in silence." he asked and Carol let out a harrumph of anger and fell silent. Is this how every man acted after hot, incredible love making or had she just been blessed enough to find a man even more mean than her husband had been?

A/N: I had planned on waiting until this story was finished before posting it but I got this first chapter done and couldn't help myself, I had to post! I hope you like it and remember this story is going to be much shorter than my others!