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curve of her waist. She closed her eyes. He drew closer and brushed his lips along her temple.
    “Then I suppose that’s how long I’ve been married, darlin’. Same exact amount of time as you. Want to guess if that’s a coincidence?”
    A coincidence ….She drew a long shuddering breath and closed her eyes with dawning horror. He’d been married a month, just like her. Matt…Matthias…it couldn’t be. “ No ,” she whispered.
    Her heart seized in her chest. She felt weak and wondered if she might faint right there.
    Opening her eyes, she lifted her gaze to look into his, terrified of what she would see. “You’re Matthias Hudson?”
    His eyes were dark with unveiled lust, and her body responded instantly. Her skin burned where his hand rested on her waist. Need and desire swirled inside her and dampened her sex.
    “I am Matthias Hudson. And you are Isabelle Hudson, I suppose.”
    The words were a statement, not a question.
    “I am Isabelle…Hudson.”
    She drew in a deep breath and let it out. Her lungs wouldn’t cooperate, and she had to concentrate on managing the simple act of breathing. He loomed over her, anger rippling off him, every muscle tight and coiled as if he were some sort of predator ready to spring.
    “They said you never come to Colter Canyon,” she whispered.
    “Who’s they ?”
    She shook her head and pursed her lips.
    “You ever heard of Darrell Hughes?” he asked.
    “No. I haven’t.”
    “Good thing. He’s a criminal. I brought him to town this morning, and people started congratulating me on my marriage. Caught me off guard… and I don’t like being caught off guard. I didn’t recall getting married.”
    “What do you want from me?”
    He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stroked his knuckles along her jaw. “I want you to feed me some of that dinner you have cooking.”
    His voice was different. Less angry and more…more something else she didn’t want to think about. His scent invaded her mind, undermining her thoughts and resistance.
    “And then what?” she asked.
    “The boys will go to bed in that little room upstairs.”
    She nodded. He’d already been inside the house while she’d been at the river. He’d walked around her cabin and made himself at home. Of course he had. “And then?”
    He took a lock of her hair, lifting it from her shoulders and rubbing it between his fingertips. Coiling it around his finger, he drew it taut. He tugged it just enough to give her a little sting.
    He drew closer to whisper. “Then I’m going to teach you a lesson about telling the truth, Mrs. Hudson.”

Chapter Seven
    Matt watched Isabelle as she finished preparing the meal. She took bread out of the oven and dumped it out of the pan. Steam rose from the loaf, and a sweet, yeasty fragrance filled the air. Every so often she glanced over at him, pale and worried like he was going to unleash hell on her. She was petrified, and it served her right. But she had some starch in her spine, too, and the occasional look she gave him came with an expression of pure ire, like this whole situation was his fault.
    She was beautiful, and he had a hard time keeping his eyes from her. He’d never wanted to take a wife, but this slip of a woman who had chosen him worked on him in a way he’d never known.
    The moment he’d laid eyes on her felt like getting hit by a charging bull. She’d walked up to the cabin with the boys’ hands in hers, eyes as big as silver dollars, and demanded to know who he was. Even with her wet hair and sodden dress, she’d stolen his breath clean from him.
    She worked in silence. Her blonde curls were a tangle he yearned to wrap around his fist. He’d wind that unruly mass of hair around his hand and hold her right where he wanted her. He was tempted to coax her into that back bedroom and steal a kiss. Or more. He’d savor those full, pouting lips.
    His blood heated. His body hardened with a savage and unrelenting hunger.
    She brought the pot of