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His family thought him dead. Returning home to confront his past, the bastard bandito, Hermano, finds a future he never dared to hope for.
Book 3 of the Malloy family series.
Hermano is more than the bandito you met in The Bounty.
He’s Malcolm Ross y Zarza half-Spanish, half-Scottish bastard son of a Texas hacienda owner who has hidden in the guise of a Mexican bandito for half his life. Malcolm left home at eighteen fueled by rage at his half-brother Damasco and the abuse he received at the hands of Damasco’s mother, Isabella.
Hermano returns home at age thirty-five hoping to find his mother, the Scottish cook that fell under the spell of Don Alejandro Zarza. But instead he finds his childhood friend, Leigh Wynne, a widow and owner of the neighboring ranch.
Leigh is in heaven and hell. She finally has a chance to be with Malcolm, the man she’s always loved, but someone is deliberately trying to destroy her ranch, and take her life in the process.
Together, Leigh and Malcolm forge a bond to find out the truth behind the treachery and murder. Bullets will fly, and Malcolm and Leigh must stand and fight, for their love, their lives, and their future.
This book has been previously published.
In the third book in the Malloy family series, Hermano returns home to confront his past and in doing so finds a future he never dared to hope for. Together, the half-Spanish, half-Scottish bastard son of a Texas hacienda owner and his childhood love forge a bond to find out the truth behind treachery and murder.
"I was about to kick his sorry ass, but I see you took care of that already, my wolf," came Malcolm's voice.
Leigh slammed the kitchen door closed behind her, shutting out Damasco and the rest of the world.
"If you Zarza men don't leave me alone soon, I swear I'll-"
He hissed in the darkness. "Do not call me a Zarza."
She turned away from him and started to leave the kitchen. Enough was enough. His warm hand touched her arm.
"I'm sorry, Leigh. I don't mean to snap at you."
"I know you don't, but you don't trust me either. And I can't trust anyone."
He sighed as his thumb caressed her inner wrist. The roughness of his calluses gently scraped the tender skin. The friction sent skitters of something racing up her arm straight to her chest. She felt her nipples harden and pucker, pushing against her undershirt. Now that was startling.
She wanted to pull her wrist out of his grasp, but was immobile. The sensations caused by that one touch were so foreign, so unsettling that she had no clue what to do.
"I want to trust you. And I want you to trust me."
His deep voice in the darkness was rough and scratchy. He was upset.
"What's wrong?"
His hold tightened briefly on her arm. "He touched you."
"It's okay. I don't think he'll do it again." Amazingly, she felt herself grin. Oh yeah. Damasco would be cursing her name all the way home. Bouncing up and down. On that hard saddle.
"If he touches you again, I may have to kill him."
His voice was cold and hard. She had no doubt he meant every word.
"Why?"
"Because he touched what does not belong to him."
"Belong?" She wasn't following his thoughts. "My ass doesn't belong to anyone but me."
"Wrong."
Before she could even take a breath to answer, she was in his arms and his lips slammed down on hers.
He was hard. So hard. From top to bottom. Especially that part of his anatomy that was initially soft. It was hard now and knocking on her belly.
And his lips. Rough and demanding, they ruthlessly plundered her own. She felt like she was in the middle of a twister. Whirling head, lurching stomach, pulsing between her legs. His whiskers scraped her chin, her cheeks. It was exhilarating; it was exciting. It was terrifying.
She grabbed onto his shoulders to ground herself. She was getting dizzy. Probably because she wasn't breathing. As quickly as it began, it ended. With a last gentle kiss, he pulled away.
She took a shuddering breath and clasped her hand to her stomach.
"What the hell just happened?"
Was that her voice? She nearly turned to look behind her to find the woman who'd spoken with that sexy, sultry voice.
"I just proved you wrong." His voice was deeper, if that were even possible.
"Wrong? About what?" Her mind damn well refused to focus.
"About your ass."
"My ass?"
She felt him smile in the semi-darkness. "I'm going to check to make sure we're not in a canyon, because there is an echo in here."
She shook her head to try to clear it. Stepping away from him, she felt the loss of heat as keenly as if he were a bonfire. Okay, just forget the kissing! Ha!
"Look, Malcolm. This isn't going any further until you tell me the truth. All of it. You have one day. By tomorrow night you're spilling the beans or you're packing your shit."
She was walking, or at least pretending to walk since she was shaking so much she couldn't feel her feet, out of the kitchen.
"Amante."
She stopped. That was the second time he'd called her sweetheart.
"What?" she snapped.
"Trust is a valuable thing, no? Once I give it to you, you cannot give it back."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Reward by Beth Williamson Copyright © 2006 by Beth Williamson. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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Overview
His family thought him dead. Returning home to confront his past, the bastard bandito, Hermano, finds a future he never dared to hope for.
Book 3 of the Malloy family series.
Hermano is more than the bandito you met in The Bounty.
He’s Malcolm Ross y Zarza half-Spanish, half-Scottish bastard son of a Texas hacienda owner who has hidden in the guise of a Mexican bandito for half his life. Malcolm left home at eighteen fueled by rage at his half-brother Damasco and the abuse he received at the hands of Damasco’s mother, Isabella.
Hermano returns home at...