Read Online Donovan's Bed: The Calhoun Sisters, Book 1 by Debra Mullins - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Debra Mullins
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would stay as far from her as possible.
But here he was, sitting outside her house like some lovesick cowhand hot for the boss’s daughter. Of course, love had nothing to do with it. It was a physical thing between him and Sarah. It would eventually fade.
He hoped.
He was so close to having what he wanted. He couldn’t let anything get in his way now.
With a jerk of the reins, he turned his horse around and galloped off into the night.
Chapter Five
Bessie Beaumont had three big brothers, all ugly as sin and as devoted as lapdogs. Each brother had a shotgun and the skill to nail a squirrel at fifty paces.
And all three of them were on Donovan’s tail.
He ducked down the alley next to the barbershop and peered out to scan the terrain. His blood was thundering through his veins, and a particular exhilaration gripped him. It had been almost a year since he had played this game. He realized that he missed the sharp-witted challenge of the chase…even when he was the one being pursued.
The Beaumont brothers were questioning Ellie Pearson across the street. The three mountain men were all equally huge and equally unwashed. He couldn’t tell who was Beau, who was Buford and who was Ben, and he really didn’t want to get all that friendly with the family anyway. While the brothers were occupied, he slid around the corner and made for the door of the barbershop.
“There he is, Buford!” Bessie screeched from across the street. “Get him!”
Donovan cursed as he darted through the entrance, the whooping Beaumonts hot on his trail. Mort and Johnny, waiting for the barber, looked up, and Gabriel looked up from his shave as Donovan stood in the middle of the shop, glancing around for an exit.
“Hey there, Donovan,” Mort greeted him.
“Is there a back door?” Donovan demanded of Ned Gorman, who stood with the razor poised above Gabriel’s lathered face.
“Sure is,” Ned answered. “In the back.”
Donovan bolted for the back of the shop as the Beaumont brothers’ footsteps thundered on the wooden walkway outside.
“Get him, Ben!” Bessie wailed over the din. “You fetch me my husband right now, or I’m fixin' to cry and ruin my complexion for the weddin’!”
Donovan made it to the back room and found the door. He slipped through and clicked it shut behind him even as he heard Beau’s voice—or was it Ben’s?
“You seen a lowdown polecat come through here, barber? Now, Bessie, don’t cry….”
“I want my husband!” she whined.
Bessie Beaumont’s yowling rendition of feminine tears spurred on Donovan to the next building. He yanked open the door, shot inside and closed it with a barely audible scrape. He paused for a moment, listening, but the Beaumont boys were occupied next door with calming their distraught sister. He grinned, the thrill of the hunt still singing in his blood.
“Mr. Donovan? What are you doing?”
Her smooth, familiar voice kicked up the speed of his pulse. Thrumming with excitement, roiling in the juices of primitive instinct, Donovan turned and met Sarah’s inquiring, blue-eyed gaze.
Time seemed to slow. He watched her breasts rise and fall with her breathing. She trembled as his stare lingered there, and her eyes widened. Everything he’d felt last night came back with a vengeance, but now he didn’t care about the hows and whys.
“I saw you last night.” She jolted at the roughness of his tone, but he ignored her obvious trepidation and reached for her, capturing and holding her fluttering fingers with his. “I saw you standing there, so pretty in your nightdress, and I know you saw me.”
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
“You saw me, Sarah.” He tugged her closer. “And you stood there and you showed yourself to me. And you wanted me.”
He lowered his head, claiming her mouth in a possessive kiss.
Sarah stiffened with shock as his mouth joined with hers, the attraction between them sizzling like grease on a griddle. She lifted her
But here he was, sitting outside her house like some lovesick cowhand hot for the boss’s daughter. Of course, love had nothing to do with it. It was a physical thing between him and Sarah. It would eventually fade.
He hoped.
He was so close to having what he wanted. He couldn’t let anything get in his way now.
With a jerk of the reins, he turned his horse around and galloped off into the night.
Chapter Five
Bessie Beaumont had three big brothers, all ugly as sin and as devoted as lapdogs. Each brother had a shotgun and the skill to nail a squirrel at fifty paces.
And all three of them were on Donovan’s tail.
He ducked down the alley next to the barbershop and peered out to scan the terrain. His blood was thundering through his veins, and a particular exhilaration gripped him. It had been almost a year since he had played this game. He realized that he missed the sharp-witted challenge of the chase…even when he was the one being pursued.
The Beaumont brothers were questioning Ellie Pearson across the street. The three mountain men were all equally huge and equally unwashed. He couldn’t tell who was Beau, who was Buford and who was Ben, and he really didn’t want to get all that friendly with the family anyway. While the brothers were occupied, he slid around the corner and made for the door of the barbershop.
“There he is, Buford!” Bessie screeched from across the street. “Get him!”
Donovan cursed as he darted through the entrance, the whooping Beaumonts hot on his trail. Mort and Johnny, waiting for the barber, looked up, and Gabriel looked up from his shave as Donovan stood in the middle of the shop, glancing around for an exit.
“Hey there, Donovan,” Mort greeted him.
“Is there a back door?” Donovan demanded of Ned Gorman, who stood with the razor poised above Gabriel’s lathered face.
“Sure is,” Ned answered. “In the back.”
Donovan bolted for the back of the shop as the Beaumont brothers’ footsteps thundered on the wooden walkway outside.
“Get him, Ben!” Bessie wailed over the din. “You fetch me my husband right now, or I’m fixin' to cry and ruin my complexion for the weddin’!”
Donovan made it to the back room and found the door. He slipped through and clicked it shut behind him even as he heard Beau’s voice—or was it Ben’s?
“You seen a lowdown polecat come through here, barber? Now, Bessie, don’t cry….”
“I want my husband!” she whined.
Bessie Beaumont’s yowling rendition of feminine tears spurred on Donovan to the next building. He yanked open the door, shot inside and closed it with a barely audible scrape. He paused for a moment, listening, but the Beaumont boys were occupied next door with calming their distraught sister. He grinned, the thrill of the hunt still singing in his blood.
“Mr. Donovan? What are you doing?”
Her smooth, familiar voice kicked up the speed of his pulse. Thrumming with excitement, roiling in the juices of primitive instinct, Donovan turned and met Sarah’s inquiring, blue-eyed gaze.
Time seemed to slow. He watched her breasts rise and fall with her breathing. She trembled as his stare lingered there, and her eyes widened. Everything he’d felt last night came back with a vengeance, but now he didn’t care about the hows and whys.
“I saw you last night.” She jolted at the roughness of his tone, but he ignored her obvious trepidation and reached for her, capturing and holding her fluttering fingers with his. “I saw you standing there, so pretty in your nightdress, and I know you saw me.”
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
“You saw me, Sarah.” He tugged her closer. “And you stood there and you showed yourself to me. And you wanted me.”
He lowered his head, claiming her mouth in a possessive kiss.
Sarah stiffened with shock as his mouth joined with hers, the attraction between them sizzling like grease on a griddle. She lifted her
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