Read Online Come Spring by Jill Marie Landis - Free Book Online Page A

woolen traveling suit, she still chided herself for being foolish enough to bring such an impractical cloak, but she’d never intended to be out riding in it in the first place. She had chosen the satin creation only because it would keep the dust off the suit and if she were totally honest with herself, because it was her favorite new piece of clothing. Before she had called off her wedding, she had envisioned wearing the cape to the opera in Paris while she and Richard toured the Continent on their honeymoon. As she glared at the broad back and shoulders of the man who had abducted her, she wondered if she would ever live to see Richard Thexton again or anyone else, for that matter.
    Staring straight ahead, she had become mesmerized by the rhythmic pounding of horses’ hooves mingled with the rattle and clank of her button collection in the tin inside her valise. The satchel had beat against the pack mule every step of the way. When they suddenly halted, the absence of sound startled her out of her lethargic state.
    Buck Scott leapt from his horse in a surprisingly fluid movement and stomped back to where Annika sat imprisoned on the mare. He glared at her long and hard, then started toward the lead mule.
    “I’ve had just about all I can take of that godforsaken rattling,” he mumbled aloud as he began to untie her valise. “I don’t know what the hell is makin’ that noise, but whatever it is, I’m throwing it out.”
    She nudged the horse with her heels until it turned enough to permit her to watch with growing horror as Buck took her valise off the mule.
    “You can’t do that!” she yelled. “Don’t touch my things.”
    “Watch me.” He started to rifle through her most intimate belongings. When he found the gold embossed tin that was the cause of his annoyance, he shook it and then shook his head.
    Annika knew she had to talk fast to dissuade him from pitching the thing away and moving on. “Please, Mr. Scott, I beg of you, don’t throw that away. Stuff something into it, if you will, and it won’t rattle. That’s my button collection. I’ve had it for years.”
    “If you’ve had it for years then it’s high time to get rid of it,” he said coolly.
    “Wait!” She hated the frantic sound in her voice, but he had already raised his arm as if to hurl it away. Annika tried again. “You can’t possibly be this cruel. What will it hurt for you to stuff my nightgown in the can so that buttons won’t rattle?”
    “You won’t need them where we’re going.”
    That’s exactly what she was afraid of, but she tried not to show her fear. “I might. Besides, they aren’t really meant to be used anymore. Most of them are antiques.” She ignored the ache in her hands, as she tried to shout over the wind.“Some of them are very, very old, Mr. Scott. Some of them are from the Revolutionary War.”
    He dropped his arm and stared at the tin and then back at Annika.
    She tried to bargain with him. “If you don’t throw them out, I promise not to complain any more until we get to wherever it is we’re going.”
    He cocked a brow and stared up at her for a long moment as if weighing the worth of her promise. Then he reached into the valise and pulled out her delicate white batiste nightgown.
    She watched as he wadded the fine material between his huge, rough hands, opened the tin, and stuffed the fabric atop the buttons. A shiver ran down Annika’s spine. She was still too scared to feel triumphant over her small success.
    After making the silent decision, he shoved the tin back into the valise and then retied it to the mule. Buck walked back toward Annika. She stiffened when he stopped beside the mare and reached up to check the rope that bound her wrists. The skin under the rough hemp was raw and angry looking, her fingers numb. She watched him frown as he stared at her hands. When he glanced up at her, she almost thought she saw concern reflected in the deep blue of his eyes, but she immediately