Excerpt of Ballad Beauty by Lauren Linwood

Snake Burton wasn’t coming. He hadn’t bothered to show up
—drunk or sober. Why would any gentleman let a lady wait
at the appointed place, horse and supplies in hand, only
to be humiliated in front of most of the population of
Apple Blossom?

She knew the answer. Snake Burton was no gentleman.

Well, if he wasn’t coming to see her, she would go to him
—if only to tell him what deplorable manners he had.

“You.” She pointed to a young man barely old enough to
shave. “I want to have a word with you.”

He slowly came her way. Those gathered on both sides of
the street did the same. If words were to be spoken, the
citizens of Apple Blossom didn’t want to miss them.

“Do you know a Mr. Snake Burton?” she asked.

“I reckon ‘bout everyone between here and Fort Worth
knows Snake,” he said affably, and the crowd chuckled
along with him.

“Then could you tell me where I might find him at this
hour of the morning?”

“I s’pose he’s up at Miss Lulu’s still.”

“And where might I find Miss Lulu?”

“Oh, you don’t want to go finding Miss Lulu, ma’am. She’s
six feet under or better and has been nigh on five, maybe
six years now.”

“But Mr. Burton is at this Miss Lulu’s house? Then please
show me the way.”

The crowd murmured its disapproval, and she wondered what
she’d said wrong.

“I’ll show you where Miss Lulu’s is.”

The throng parted, and her heart caught in her throat. It
was the dark-haired stranger with the cold, sky blue
eyes. She almost took a step back as he approached then
thought better of it. Treat him like Lucinda Smith, the
ringleader of the bullies that picked on her in those
early days when she first arrived at The Thompson School.

She drew herself up to her full height and raised her
chin a notch for good measure. He came toward her slowly,
an easy confidence in his gait.

He must be an even six feet, she judged. Muscle hardened
his otherwise lean frame. His jet-black hair had a slight
wave to it. His complexion was dark, as if he spent most
of his time outdoors in the bright Texas sun. Chiseled
cheeks and a strong jaw accompanied a sensuous mouth.

But what she focused on now was the small scar. Funny,
she hadn’t noticed it before. It ran just above his chin,
white against his tanned face. She thought it might be
from a knife, based on her experience at the free clinic.
She wondered how he’d gotten sliced in such a tender
spot.

He paused as he reached her, his hat in his hand. “I can
show you. But I don’t think you’ll want to go in.”

Her eyes flashed. “And why not?” she asked in a haughty
tone.

“Because Miss Lulu’s is a house of ill repute.”