fig into her mouth.
From the corner of her eye, she watched as he reached for his cup of coffee. If the situation were differentâif he wasnât holding her for ransom and no telling what elseâshe might have been tempted to remark on his appeal.
Curious about his motives, she asked, âWhy are you in such desperate straits that you need to extort money?â
Shaking his head, he glanced toward the heavens. âNever gives up, does she?â he muttered, then shifted his position and sat Indian-style.
All sprawl-kneed like he was, how could Charity not gawk at him? Her eyes lowered to the soft breechclout draping between his legs. She would have to have been blind as Olga not to notice how the supple buckskin highlighted his hard male planes. Oh my, Charityâs face felt flushed, almost as if she had a fever.
Gads!
Gulping, she pulled herself together and back to conversation. âYou donât have to lower yourself to criminal means, Hawk. You could get a job. Why, as strong as you are, Iâll bet youâd make an excellent blacksmith.â
âThink Iâm pretty strong?â A look of hawk-got-the-prey spanned his longish face of high cheekbones and sensuous lips.
âOf course youâre strong.â And handsome. She tried to divert her attention from the purely physical. âCan you read and write?â
âWeâd better sleep now,â he said and poured coffee grounds into the fire.
Poor thing. He was illiterate. And she had embarrassed him, she figured. That was why his face had turned to the nightâs shadows. âSleep is a good idea,â she said, eager to change the subject. âIf you donât mind, Iâll take the wagon bed.â
âI mind. Youâll sleep beside me. Right here on the ground.â
âI canât sleep on the ground,â was her indignant reply. âIâve never slept on the ground and I donât intend to start now.â
âThe grasses are soft, spoiled rich girl. And weâve plenty of blankets. You wonât suffer.â
Why argue the âspoiled rich girlâ part? She had been spoiled, she had been rich, although, at barely twenty, she was no longer a girl. Rich, spoiled, broke, or desperate, she was what she was, so why try to disabuse his notions? âBut I will suffer,â she protested. âIâm aching all over.â
âDid you hurt yourself?â
âOf course I did.â She liked what she heard in his deep, sonorous voice. âLast night, when I fell, I hurt, why, just about every bone in my body.â This was a bit much; she had no grievous injuries, after all. But she did enjoy seeing the look of concern on his face. âRemember?â
âWhy didnât you say something earlier?â
âIâm saying it now.â
His visual canvass went from her head to her toes and back again. âDo you have cuts that need tending?â
âI donât think so.â
âIâd better take a look. You could get sick from an untended wound.â
âWould it matter if I got sick?â She laughed nervously. âOh wait a minute, I forgotâof course it would matter. You need me for the booty.â
âRight. Only for the ransom.â
âIâve got to give you some credit, Hawk. Iâm glad you didnât lie.â Like Ian had. âLiars are the scum of the earth in my estimation.â
Hawk smiled a tight, enigmatic smile. âIâm glad something about me pleases you. Now, lie down.â
Ye lie down with dogs, ye get fleas. How many times had Maisie said that to Charity? Donât be thinking about her. âHawk, I will not sleep with you.â
âI said, youâll have the soft grasses and plenty of blankets. You wonât suffer.â
Whining a bitâit had sometimes worked with her familyâshe pointed out, âBut, Hawk, Iâve always been a restless sleeper.â She
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